by Iolana Paedelt
you summon demons, I talk to gods of death,
nunc scio quid sit amor
fallen angels, it’s too late now isn’t it?
rosemary, rosemary make the pain less when mars aligns with October’s full moon —
the greatest horror still is loneliness.
bite marks cover my body,
invisible claws scratched me until I bled
blood or love, I don?t know anymore.
I remember the red wine on his lips, it looked like blood stains after we kissed,
what must I leave behind?
the voices come and go,
so does the static in my head, I am trapped in emptiness.
I am her daughter, I am her mother, I am her friend, drowned, hanged and burned at the stake —
most men fear what they can’t understand.
I walk in the blue moon’s light through the graveyard that is my heart,
the veil is at its thinnest,
and so she brings me back from the realm of death.
I am resurrected through the power in her heart.
etiam in morte, superest amor.
Iolana Paedelt is a German writer and poet. Her short stories and poems have been published in anthologies and magazines, both online and in print. Find her online at iolanapaedelt.wixsite.com/iolana-paedelt. On Twitter, @therealpaedelt, on Instagram: @therealpaedelt.
