My Intimate Poetry: Flutter.

Beneath every angel, there is a devil. ― Tammy-Louise Wilkins

The voice once heard at the entrance of night,
Appears no more now this room inhabits no light.
His shadow a mere memory in my mind,
Those words once uttered simmer in the air to remind.

The days without light dismal much the same,
To the nights without the flicker of a single flame.
The artist withdrew his brush from my paint,
Once he’d stroked me with a sinful taint.

Did desire not warn me of danger?
Yet it taunts me with the memory of this stranger.
Did desire not warn me of the dark?
The consequences that lie in wait until I bare its mark?

Though the ghost of his voice remains to haunt,
My only warmth in the darkness of my own daunt.
The curtains are yet to be drawn on this show,
A glint of hope that may return my beau.

2012 © Tammy-Louise Wilkins


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