I breathe in your lust, as you
stumble from me, a bloody white
dress adorning your snowy frame.
Searching desperately, you call
for me, the pretty voices caressing
your mind. Forgive me, forgive me
you say many times again, as if you’ve
already forgotten yourself. Falling
to the edge of mercy, your nightmares
stare into my hollow eyes,
begging for release, as our vows
slip from your tongue. You reach
for my heart, entwine your
blood-soaked soul in mine, as those
shadows embrace our scarlet guilt.
Consumed, devoured, left for dead
and rotting, a wedding gown for the
fallen, receptions for the wandering.
But that’s fine.
Tasting my poison on you, ambrosia
from my temptations, lust gathering
near us. Say, love, pray for my sins in
our ceremony, in that chapel made of
bones and ash. Evil, I hear you say. And
You are evil.
Robin Goodfellow first became interested in writing when she was three, scribbling all over her parents' walls and imagining herself in old fairytales while walking in her father's garden. Since then, she has published poems in journals such as Danse Macabre, Faith, Hope, and Fiction, and Nature Writing.