SomethingOnceSacred

It left a taste in my mouth, like swallowing A handful of salt water. I had Loved you in my sleep, waking up to wonder If the devil had at last taken me. I gave my soul away To spiders made of ink. The ground looks so much softer From six thousand feet above; I knew this fall Before sweet dreaming, midnight wishes, all Glasgow smiles and gnashing teeth. And you would pick The skin from my lips for those Copper kisses and say that it Was only for a little while.

If there is anything I've learned from Waiting for you to fall asleep, It’s that when I get restless At four o’clock in the morning, there’s no Point in getting up to try and write you poetry. I've got a list Made up of the seven things I haven’t ever Been able to tell you Hidden in my back pocket, in case one day I work up the gall And lack the reason. Every blank page before noon Has got your name written all over it, and all The most satisfying impossibilities Seem so much more comfortable After midnight. If you spend enough time Watching a clock seeming To go backwards, You begin to remember How much y

"What is this?" The child moved to step forward, across the soggy soil, but the man stopped him, placing a firm hand on his shoulder. "Somewhere very special," he said quietly, carefully sliding himself into the space between the gravesites, unwilling to tread on either one of the women beneath them. He urged the small boy to follow. He got down on his hands and knees, dirtying the legs of his slacks, and crawled into the little opening that had formed in the base of the tree. If one looked closely, it was actually two trees that had merged together as saplings, both now one enormous oak. Slowly turning over onto his back, he helped the c

Some Hellish Company Though she was merely an immortal, and not demonic like her peers, they parted in her wake out of respect whenever she walked by. Guards in the likeness of minotaurs outside the palace gates only gave the female a passing glance before letting her through, knowing better than to ask her of her purpose, for it was always the same: she had come to see the Father of Lies. The palace was made of black and white marble, many, many centuries ago, and was almost as vast as the Circle it dwelled within. Matilda knew the way to her King's chambers by heart, walking across the expansive foyer to one of the twin staircases that r