Cherry Blossom - pipTalk Forums

How to Join	Member's Area	Private Library	Search	Sanctuary		Login
Main Forums	Discussion	Tech Talk	Mature Content	Archives	A home without a wall, Our haven without ends, A circle we all call Our Family of Friends!

Dark Poetry #3

Cherry Blossom

Embers_Before_God
Member

since 2001-03-06

Posts 101
USA

0 posted 2001-03-21 03:04 PM

If I were to fear
all there is to fear,
relinquish my rights
to the last
fraying strand of sanity,
allowing it to float up
like the string
from a child's balloon,
would I still see
the blossoming
cherry red bloodstain
that torments me,
that puddles on hardwood floors,
dancing under the crack
in the door,
soaking into the thoughts
with which I suffer.

I see it,
but it's not there,
hidden behind curtains—
the same cherry red—
hanging loosely
from the tittering roof
of my inner head,
longing to fall,
to crush my skull
with more thoughts of dread.

The curtain doesn’t fall,
but my eyes droop and sag,
wanting to glance—
one, quick glance—
under the door
to see if the stain remains
as is it does inside,
haunting me
as a ghost haunts
the current sitter
of a dilapidated house of ruin.

I yearn to touch it,
to reach out
with one, pale hand
that quivers before my eyes,
to see if it’s real, true.
But there is no need.
The cherry blossom is as real
as any thought I’ve had,
the guise of death
creeping amidst the memories
behind my eyes,
seeking to destroy
all that remains
of my trembling soul.

There is no release,
save for opening the door,
that door that remains closed,
off-limits
to the wilting thread of hope.
I suppose
it's some type of sanctuary,
the door,
the dream,
the memories,
the cherry red bloodstain,
but it’s still
my source of grief, pain.

My memories of that night,
that long ago night,
when it was you who haunted me
as opposed to a simple bloodstain
or a fictional, haunting ghost,
still flash before me.
Yet in any form,
it still means death,
and I find myself wondering
just how many guises you have.

The veiled recollection
of my past
is only visible
in my head.
I am but a caretaker,
a vessel by which
you—death—shall visit,
hunting more prey,
for your far away home called Hell.

It would be easy enough
to say, "why me,"
but now it's too.
The drop of blood may move,
may be swept away,
but its memory
and the memory by which it came,
shall always remain—
an eternal cherry blossom stain.

Dance with me under the moon. Touch my pale skin. Devour me. Love me.

Mysteria

Member Laureate

since 2001-03-07

Posts 18328
British Columbia, Canada

1 posted 2001-03-21 11:11 PM

Wow! This was a brilliant piece of work...I have one question about this line:
It would be easy enough
to say, "why me,"
but now it's too.
(you meant to put LATE am I correct)? Thoughts of one's demise and the devil can become an obsession and this certainly addresses that aspect of one's mind. Great work on this piece. I really enjoyed it.

	⇧ top of page ⇧
All times are ET (US). All dates are in Year-Month-Day format.