In my dream I am as Ophelia
Waxing pale and beautiful in the moonlight
At peace I float on the crimson tide
My love blossoms as a lush garden of roses
Dripping their scarlet petals atop my satin boudoir
So much love will surely spread endless blooms for your cruel pleasure
You cut them down and watch them wither to black
Do as you are wont to do my love
No gentle plucking of a stem or two
Go about it in your savage way if it gives satisfaction
Rip the velvet blooms from their thorny moorings
Be sure to leave nothing of beauty behind, destroy everything
When there’s nothing left and everything has withered to black
Return to me and my garden will again be as lush as ever
Yours to ruin yet again
And so it is, and is, and is
About the Creator
Heather Donald
I believe in love & kindness, that we should embrace joy, sing, dance & be silly! I am a survivor, damaged but not broken. I have a lot of love to give, free of judgment and given freely because I believe love can heal the world. 💕
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Gossamer
"Murray! Wake up!" He loved that period between waking and dreaming. To him, it was like entering another dimension; more of a dreamscape than dreaming itself. There was an otherness to it that he wanted to grasp and yet deeply respected the fact that it could never be his totally. This is what gossamer was; flighty and light, a wisp of smokiness, an idea suggested but not fully revealed, a slit in cloth, a copse in the wood.
By Rachel Deeming5 days ago in Fiction
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