I apologise.
I apologise for what I have cursed you with
My queen.
You were meant to shine
So bright,
Yet I ripped that possibility from you.
I was selfish,
I admit,
To expect you to give your mother
Up completely.
Imagine my shock
When I discovered you ate the pomegranate.
Your lips stained blood red,
I can never get that image
Out of my head.
You were so innocent
And I corrupted you.
I made you into something
You were never meant to be.
And for that, I apologise.
If only I had more strength,
I would be able
To give you up.
But your love is an aphrodisiac to me.
For so long
I have been starved of company,
So when you came
I never wanted you to leave.
Your mother may hate me,
I don't blame her.
I hate me too
For what I have done.
But no matter how hard I try
I cannot give you up.
You are my queen.
My friend.
My true love.
And you will continue to be so
Until you decide differently.
Then and only then, will I give you up.
(No matter how much it may kill me to do so).
orion
YOU ARE READING
Ichor
PoetryA story twisted Left and right, Through countless mouths And endless minds. A game of chinese whispers, Each recount slightly different Compared to the rest. A tale of power And a tale of weakness. Faults ignored And dangers conceeded. What is it? ...
