A Wrong Turn

The Madness

I bound you in the tower of frozen shadows

With silk ropes woven from my words;

But you danced free, between the crystal

Moonbeams and the icebergs, across the

Mountains of forever, to your castles

In the sky, made from blackberries and

Chocolate, always trying to work out

the 'Somewhere I belong', even as I was

Going mad and 'Calling you to see'.

I clad you in the simplest finery,

Boastful of my sense of line and curve,

Of rainbows that star-burst your eyes,

Owning you in every stitch and hem,

Drawing out the playful nymph who had

Buried herself in scripture and a fear

Of dark spectres, despite her hunger for 

Razors and the sear of primal fucking.

Yet, you stripped naked and dared me

To be, soaked with rain and desire,

Your clothes a ragged memory, and I

Faltered as you drowned in the music

Of our days, neither of us knowing

The beautiful agony in the noise that 

Ripped you from the moment, from 

Every moment, and made you blind

And mute, as well as deaf: a tragedy

In black and white, when all around

Were infinitesimal shades of colour.