Your Mistress

The eggshells are dust And my toes blistered From always walking soundly The mirror reflects My true anguished face Before it’s prepared For your approval This masque we live in An endless nightmare You’ve shackled to me As a price for love Your secrets I keep To save your faces For the glory of Unforgiving kin My banner of life Floated like feathers In the wind of my making Now lies in the dust As a feast for moths In your oversized closet

menoh

I am a button pusher. I stir up trouble. It is what I do. I live in the borders between light and dark. I can write about beautiful things, and joy and love, but I find I am more creative when i write about the dark. I love to hold a mirror up to the...

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