by Russ Vanheel

Created on: June 20, 2008

Forbidden

for her
this fevered full moon child
and a pariah unshackled from shattered dreams
once captured in a mirror cracked through its reflection
of my world, and with each passing hour
that is tapping the jugular

for her
a wicked spell she cast upon
me that deafens every nerve of my common senses
and murders this restless flame of passion back to life
after yet another death as the hour keeps approaching
that is tapping the jugular

for her
keeper of my tender, broken heart
she soaks in novocaine to abruptly stop the bleeding
until it wears off and the wanting is pitchfork stabbing
pain but she refuses to give it back in the approaching
minutes tapping the jugular

for her
who takes everything that glitters
turned bloodstained gold, the same color as the rule
she has of giving nothing back regardless of how desperate
the hour of need that is gleaming razor sharp and ready
in seconds to cut the jugular

for her
who smothers this adrenaline spirit
that offered and delivered salvation on a sincere whim
to a scarecrow demeanor and lumbering existence gone
to hell and back and right back to that initial hour
that is tapping the jugular....

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