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Dedman’s Morbid Mausoleum of Dark Poetry: A Dead Man’s Epitaph (Original Work, Exclusively Published on Morbidly Beautiful)

My heart and soul was placed in its ossuary years ago, ushered into a columbarium of stone,
True amorous was never meant for me or my ilk, the memory of it crumbles like bleached bone;

 Lament leads to anger and sorrow, emotions best left for the foolhardy and youth that will never learn,
How She persecutes my remembrances like a spectre, taking mirth with every endeavour to spurn;

 The embalmment of affections is clearly the only cure, to forsake passion seems to be the mode,
Bitterness has become common and a weary companion, but to the Temptress an answer in not owed;

 To be sanguine of my torment is a blessing and a curse, a destiny that one should never look in the eye,
Maybe a whisper of the razor, slicing of the arterial flow,  the warmth of anaemia leaving with a sigh…


Come back each week for more original dark poetry, every #WordPornWednesday!

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