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Gothic Dream
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Loving Thirteen winds...blowing through her
Hair darker than the blackest...
Night is where she loves to live her
Life is but a passing dream.
Watchers... don't ever under-
Stand with her and you might learn some
Things are dark... even with light
Shining in her gothic dream
Painted pale.. with her shadowed
Eyes unreadable as blank as
Moonless nights... with unforseen
Beauty is her second name.
Blue hair framing her most perfect
Face decorated with metal
Studs of silver marring nothing
But enhancing gothic dreams.
Smiles so rare but when seen they are
Perfect darkness that so few can
Recognize it's many forms of
Dark desire rules her life
wonderful poem
i like it :*) .
Bravo . . . utterly stunning invocation! Wow! I am speechless, and that is a considerable effect if you knew how big my mouth is. Wow! This is some swell poem!