No, my love
you will
not
speak of things
done in darkness,
of
things that strip you
of your clothing,
then your innocence,
and maybe,
if you’re really, really good…
your life
No, my love
you will
not
speak of the pain
in your heart
and long showers that
never
purify
your tainted soul
No, my love
you will
not
speak of my cruelty,
my cursing,
my fists,
my feet.
No, my love
you will
smile,
and the mask of
our dead love
will harden
like a cocoon.
And then,
let only
fantasy butterflies
alight from your tongue.
Beyond Panic 
This is sad and disheartening when a woman is over powered or controlled by a man. The irony and pain dripped through your words.
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Thanks. This picture was actually labeled as ‘dark fantasy,’ but the expression on her face and the markings spoke to me a different way.
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“And then, let only fantasy butterflies alight from your tongue.”
Wow, such a dark, brooding and powerful piece. Nicely done, Alfred.
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Thanks Darren. That picture was actually labeled ‘dark fantasy’, but the look in her eyes just spoke to me differently. Not a subject I normally take on, but the photo was compelling.
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Indeed it was and you made a good job of it.
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