exordium:
H.P. Lovecraft’s heretic pride.
She is suffering,
a girl disappearing into the thorns
woven into crowns.
Her roses are bloody like the moon.
In cults of crucifixion,
marble lions roar amid the falling snow.
Indelible sin, taints of innocence,
her curse is your love song.
terminus.
I enjoy how you begin and end with a single word. Beautiful imagery... 'marble lions roar amid the falling snow.' I'm in love with the image created in my mind. Your style is distinct, but I still think you are growing and transforming as a writer. : ] Exciting.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Very well written. I like the imagery.