His words, soft
like honey or velvet
his sweet whispers
a symphony of breathless elegance
the storm in his eyes and regal disposition
his bejewelled throne
built upon broken hearts and bleeding souls
his every movement, every gesture
sorcery and alchemy
spells cast to disguise
the shadows and the lies
and to hide the ghosts that still haunted him
the scent of roses and empty promises
still lingering in the air
in that moment
I knew he would be my undoing
for I was ever destined
for the flames
and for the passion
and the pain
again
and again
and again
© Ann Bagnall
Annie's Poetry 