My eyes keep gliding over your pale skin
Turquoise streams lead the way to the parade,
Where Apollo two rosy blades had laid
Which I ,only seldom, see them grin.
Like a Greek statuette you felt at touch
Cold and lifeless. You looked behind me
Looking for her, not listening to my plea,
Maybe today I looked at you too much.
If you want me to , I can become her
Nimble Arachne can teach me how to weave
Out of her hair, for you, I'd make a sleeve.
I'll wear it day and night so you might stare
Your sombre eyes would glide over my skin
Under the cover of darkness, I'll be your sin.
YOU ARE READING
Hamartia
Poetryhamartia həˈmɑːtɪə noun:/ a fatal flaw leading to the downfall of a tragic hero or heroine. "if meeting you was the peripeteia, then you are my hamartia."
