The Rotting, Exiled Mistress in the Sun

I have a house on a chain

It used to dangle from my wrist

It was lost and someone found it

But then it didn’t fit

*

I strung it from a wire

Tied it loosely round my neck

But the sunlight bleached it

Still, I wanted to keep it

*

Pulled it closer to my heart

Collared love and neck-bone lace

Till the string was pulled too tight

I was choked but didn’t die

*

The house took my spirit away

But my breath remained

Then came the dreams of fire

And I knew the house was cursed

*

Should have kept the superstitions

Said my acts of contrition

Followed all the warning bells

And realized that this house was hell

*

Now the matter seeps in heavy

Sandman has replaced the sun

I beg the stars, eternal rest

And, which form of death is best?


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