heroine~

to my precious friend, I will never truly know your torment, but know that I shall be praying for your torchered soul to be peaceful once again & all those lost years that have been ripped & stolen from you shall be returned to you & your family a thousand fold.  I will forever be thinking of you... xo ~Bella

a sonnet I found for you~

I.

My heroine, that saviour pure of soul,

Whose love doth pipe throughout my wanting chest

To feed the hungry tips of body whole,

Afore returning calm to sated breast.

Her dark embrace doth wrap me in a cloud,

Like liquid warm, a plume leaked out from lips,

That settles on my soul like soothing shroud,

And in such coaxing spells my reason slips.

All time and thought this spirit doth consume,

Her absence wroth doth leave me wanting more;

In such a void my life I'd loath resume,

Mere shadow to that one whom i adore.

Yet 'tis no woman seen that holds these reins,

For she my heroine rides in my veins.

II.

This truthful verse is for my heroi'd love,

The cankered sore that moulds and rots my life;

That viper black against whom long I've strove,

Who's caused to me a sea of endless stryfe.

How much I hate her cold and plastic frame,

That vile face where love and hate doth mesh;

Whose hollowed tubes do whisper out my name

As they depress into my haunted flesh.

Her poison spewed through long and metal fangs

Doth cloud my thought and ill pollute my veins;

A cure I know not for those rotting pangs,

That horrid joy doth ever cause me pains.

And yet I've not immuned her charms of ill;

Her poison yet ensures I'll see her still.

III.

I bound abound toward the streetlight dim

Where oft I buy my sweet addiction pure;

And to my shock, my merchant Jungle Jim

Is nowhere found; he was arrested sure.

Thus off I go to search 'mongst other men,

So that I might yet sate my large desire;

And yet the blacks do chase me out of den,

And bold latinos do send me off with ire.

And thus I skulked to damn'd and dirty Dwight,

A desperate choice, and one that I shall rue;

And thus my short and ill-bred search did fail,

For seven years I'll spend in jail.

sonnet series is by Luke MacNeil

Comments

[Gillian]

Not sure who this is intended for, but it is such a sweet gesture Izabella...I hope your friend finds happiness.

That album was one of my favourites. I listened to it only yesterday.
xo