Gather ’round all,
Come with me to the menagerie.
No, not a ménage à trois,
But bel et bien a collection of curiosities.
A harpy, a siren, a strongman
Why, you might even find a bearded lady.
Come closer, take a look
At the caged beauty
Who’s forgotten herself;
She’s the magician’s monstrosity.
You will be awed, you will be repulsed,
No! Don’t stand too close.
Alluring as she may be,
She’s waiting in bleak silence
‘Till you get close enough
For her talons to sink into your soul.
Some fall in love,
She falls in angst.
Come one, come all!
If you’re ready and willing
To pay a pretty penny
For a glimpse inside
The realm of my nightmares.
© 2020 Lilith Ember All Rights Reserved
The perfect drizzle
defines the line between today and tomorrow
A morose specimen,
far too endearing to share with our peers
peers out of its receptacle;
a chill destroys its resolve
“if only pigs could fly,
then I’d get myself out of this darned mess.”
It thinks, unwillingly.
The home of a collector
is not to be taken lightly
on days where the sun’s power dwindles
and the comings of months of death
appear on the horizon.
One step at a time,
it creeps, occasionally lurching
towards a white cover of bliss.
Brought back to the silence
of a city’s breath drawn again
when a cloak of winter descends
leaving everything amiss.
At times, when the sea of stars seems
to lose itself in the vastness of the night
I’ve often longed to hear crisp footsteps,
ones I’ve dreamt of ad-nauseam;
despite the harsh and cruel winter,
they echo the sound of my love’s path
finally finding its way back
into the warmth of my tender embrace.
© 2019 Lilith Ember All Rights Reserved