Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow

You warmed my soul,


as I arrived in the winter of my life.


I spy my favourite colour,


hiding behind the lenses of your glasses,


and I am reminded of how tightly you clutched my hand,


as the rain began to fall,


last summer on the beach,


my lipstick staining your trembling lips,


as the showers from the sky joined the sea.


You are my tragic heroine,


a Princess, pained by a prophecy,


reaching for my waiting hand as we wander into the realms of blood soaked madness.

Destined to lead,


but never sure of yourself,


doubting your reflection in shadowy corners,


I speak with your voice and drag you from your solitude.


You call me your sweetheart
,

sighing in unison,


our sweet union is blessed in breathless embraces,


the storm staring through the window,


I am bound to the bedpost,


Lady Macbeth, at the mercy of her mad love.

I do not say your name,


not even when you charm rivers from me,


not even when you make me writhe like I am possessed.


I do not say your name,


for it is cursed,

just like our love,


a poisoned chalice that we both drink from,


because dying in ecstasy means more than being alive.

I am your only comfort as the sky cracks under the force of thunder,


lightning lighting up the room,


before it is banished to bleakness again,


and again,


your blue eyes are buried in my body,


the old King is buried in the back yard,


and the blood on our hands looks just like water, in the dark.