A gunslinger

A darkness engulfs my heart
Devouring it’s fibers
One big chunk at time

Am lost of a soul,
But a wondering spirit,
With a decaying body

I hate to love,
Love to kill,
And kill for joy

I make bed in a den,
Where my head rests on skulls
Drowning in this pool of a nightmare

A young maiden,
With fair skin

Long dark hair
In a wooden bath

She smells of roses,
Standing within a flaring curtain
White, and lucid

She drips of innocence
Walking unto me
On the oak floor

She leaves tiny prints
Of her virgin feet,
Towards a canopy bed

Where white sheets fall
Like a stream onto the floor
With dotted petals of red

She climbs unruffled,
With a cordial smile
But salacious stare

Crawling slowly
To find my lips,
Kissing lightly

Feeling her cold,
Tingle my warm skin,
About the loins

Before laying gently
Her head on my chest
My hand about her shoulder

Humming to a heart’s beat
The hymn of the fallen ones
The tale of a blood brother



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