My king of Darkness
Is standing,
Underneath the brown
Dried up branches of
A weeping willow.
The tree
Enshrouded in a spiral
Of
Thorny
Vine,
A dark figure
Is what he looks,
With a rain cloud
Over his head
No thunder, No lightning
Appear from it,
Just steady rain drops
Covering him
Head
To
Toe,
His hair
Wet and soaking
Covers up
His dark shallow eyes.
Tempted to slick
Back his hair
Away from
His eyes
Is
Only to be done when
Wanting,
To fall into his sight
And be trapped
Within
His stilled mind
For an eternity
Or two,
He seems
To be a creature
That no one
Can touch
Except me,
And even
Then,
The possesion that
I hold of
Him,
Could go away someday
With a part
Of me
Forever attached.
 
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