Inside you stands the Ragnarök. Apocalypse of a different name because you were never one to care for the Rapture. Your eyes like eclipses, lips like mangos and passion fruit, skin soft like silk, hair like wool. Inside you lives Paradise.

I’ve become a minister of your love

confessionals to your body in night,

I love you,

tell you this on festive nights,

because you only enjoy praise,

deified beauty

these are words from a sinful man,

I would wrestle the Moon

and submerge the Sun

so they my fit as jewels in your crown.

Inside your stands the Ragnarök. Beautiful and terrifying. I’ve never been so intrigued.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s