The Man In The Moon

Gerald del Campo

She comes in like the Darkness
On a cold winter night;
A child, pale, the consort of the Angel of Death
With lips as red as the finest rubies
And as crimson as the blood which runs through my veins.

Eyes, haunting; dark and mysterious
As the bottomless depths of the ocean.
Double faced woman in mourning and in laughter
Torn between the magick and the tragic
Essence of the realm of desire.

Uncharted, unexplored; a virgin
From the joys and pleasures of this world,
Oh, fruit not tasted, passion wasted
From fear of the wrath
Of some loveless god.

Inspired by her Beauty I lie
Awaiting the last beat of my heart;
I sink into the blood red lips
In hopes that soon, as I expire, as we embrace
We may enter the world christened Forever.

Our blood, mingled, spilled upon the earth
Like seed scattered in passion
Dispersed on some impossible soil.
With one scream for pain and one for pleasure
Two roses emerged to face the Rising Sun.

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