Death, dream, fiction and poetry, Love, Poems, poetry, think

Incensed Nightmares

drops are torturing my patience,
slowly traversing the spine,

In a frozen lake,
incensed with the dead past,
hymns and chants,
the mist and howls of winds,
kiss and dispose me,
a flesh impure for offering,
I believe

I lie on the ice naked with you,
seeking the last ounce of warmth,
through your curves,
I traced every inch,
in the dying moonlight,
till you slithered my neck,
and kiss me one last time,

with fear in my eyes,
an ocean of ecstacy in my heart,
and a smell of incense hemorrhaging my brain,
I sleep for eternity.

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