Black Rose

Edge of the thorns of vulnerability
We wait for bliss like a dream
Addiction where the rain is fire
She touches me with ancient knives
Muse designed by the satyr refrain
Violet sky with the immaculate lamp
Clouds on incense draperies
She sleeps like a leather lioness
Her high heels like gothic swords
The world sighs in her crotch

Fall apples shine in the dawn
I am alive but lost
Art brings symbols like arctic holes
Graves waiting in the fog
Lust like Napoleons army
Conquered by Kant’s moral law
The stars must be illusive
The doors are melted steel
Muse of pain like a red moon
She is gone like the raven night

Cut by vulnerabilities black rose

poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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