Blog, Gothic, Poetry, Writing

The Gothic Embrace

It is a fire that burns cold,

Reaching into the soul

With claws that scrape and scar,

As a harmony of pleasure and pain,

Abets one to begin again.

With sorrow

Comes beauty,

Mixing as does the sun at the end,

Whose blood curdles amidst the night;

As purple and blue reunite.

A chalice fills with purpose,

Whilst incense, zephyr courts,

Alongside dreams,

That crystallise beyond doors

Where suspect rituals are extolled,

To fulfil fantasies even Daemons opposed.

And now the sigil calls a name,

Echoing through the ring of a bell,

To summon she who beckons too,

Cheating Death’s bitter chase

For just one more, Gothic,


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