literature

A Love Affair with a Demon

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Pr0metheusUnb0und's avatar
Published:
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Literature Text

He breezes brazenly
through the pyre that
burned her door;
and in that fiery frame,
he is as beautiful,
but for the stillness
of her masterpiece;
of whispering embers that
cinder everything
that once kindled us;
then bearing the ashes to
our hearth, where
they devour her heat
in morsels. Each sleep,
I become his harlot
in a brimstone debonair
covered with rags of hugs,
but woven for dead men
by her arms;
so I lay not naked
in his coffin of despair,
but drape myself 
with the moon.
Prompted by a girl's question: Why do you twist and turn so much at night?

Questions for critique:
1. Is my choice of words too opaque?
2. Does the metaphors fit together well?
© 2013 - 2024 Pr0metheusUnb0und
Comments9
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TheMoorMaiden's avatar
I really like your imagery here, particularly your recurring image of fire. Personally I feel as though some of the punctuation early on in the poem could do with a little readjusting, perhaps you could edit it a little like this:

he is as beautiful
but for the stillness
of her masterpiece;
of whispering embers that
cinder everything
that once kindled us,
then bearing the ashes to
our hearth,


I feel it would read a little better like that but that's just my personal opinion, so you're more than welcome to ignore my ramblings. :giggle:

I love the line:

Each sleep,
I become his harlot
:D

Great work, keep writing!