by Iolana Paedelt
The queen of ruins,
wrote her own death,
on the day he left,
her falling tears turned red.
black ravens and silver crowns,
she danced with the devil in hell,
I can tell,
you’ve never felt death’s cold kiss.
why is it that wine burns like holy water on your lips?
white and red and red and white.
pale hearts feasting on skinny love
like rats on poison.
and spiders on their lovers.
the divine source of light lies buried deep within the secret whispers of
the forest,
next to the fallen demon who used to be a god.
he tore his beating heart out of his chest,
because he couldn’t forget
his lost loves and the painful destruction love had left.
he heard her scream as he wrote with blood
“forgive me, my queen. loving you isn’t enough.”
Iolana Paedelt is a German writer and poet. Their short stories and poems have been published in anthologies and magazines, both online and in print. On Twitter @therealpaedelt. On Instagram @therealpaedelt. Their website is iolanapaedelt.wixsite.com/iolana-paedelt.
