The Fume of Sighs

Were there a god that dared to give me wings,
they would not remain white.
A few weeks’ time,
they’d be black and torn,
tattered and bored.
And were there a devil
naive enough to grant me horns,
he’d have given me license
to write
a story of flames-

in the fields we waited
just after midnight,
for the other to
escape, disobey the statutes that
claimed we would burn.

for spending nights
under the stars
without words,
outside the town gates
and those
who did not heed our cries-
the fume of sighs-
but handed one of us
poison
and the other,

a knife.

These violent
delights have
violent ends

and in their triumph,

die.

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3 thoughts on “The Fume of Sighs

  1. “A few weeks’ time,
    they’d be black and torn,
    tattered and bored.
    And were there a devil
    naive enough to grant me horns,
    he’d have given me license
    to write
    a story of flames-”

    This part’s my favorite! 😀

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