..and so,
perhaps,
I was a seductress in my past life..
For it was before I knew the name for flesh
that I knew to fear it being seen.
A choir of voices
reaching its crescendo
once skies of lustful stars appear to me.
“shame”, they say.
A silent song of evil curses,
in an ancient language my soul no longer knows,
weaving between twinkling bliss,
then disappearing just as fast as it had all come.
“shame”, they sing.
Under a falling sky of words and bitter breath,
rancid smells fill my youthful lungs,
I become so small
and less of who I once was.
..so perhaps
I was a seductress in my past life..
For it was before I could open mine,
I knew the itch and scratch of leering eyes.
How else do I explain this instinct,
the sixth sense,
for the distant heat of another body no matter how far,
dark,
or quiet the night is..
Surely it must be an ancient me that lingers,
it must be something from within that speaks,
how else can I explain this odd frequency,?
Shame..
I, a seductress, in a world with a
leering gaze.
Surely it’s so,
it must be so,
it could only be so
so
so many eyes
so little was I.
Mother Magdalene,
is this world rotting or am I?