Sharon Duveau Poetry

Bottomless brown eyes,
Wells from which my reflection derives
encrested on a heart-shaped face
bring out the ugliness in my being.
These things pass unseen:
A grotesque monster,
the carcass,
dead skin,
and bloodied mouth
grinning.

Never was the scent of roses more intoxicating!
My only escape,
Though you seem to summon my craving..
Dare not!
Proceed not!
Retreat before I turn,
longing to claw frantically at your throat
and cause the rosey color to spread to your cheeks,
the rosiness of your sweet taste.

Shuddering with the thought
but you still look my way
and I must brace myself.
For you are the fruit that someone plucked
To tease my wanting, to taunt the monster inside.
You are the fruit plucked
by fate, disguised
and I can't grasp how your warmth melts all this ice.

Weaken me, don't make me stronger.
Leave me
In the twilight.

Poet: Sharon Duveau