A Gothic Kiss Poem by Maurice Rowlands

The ice cold of a winter night
Feels like fire on her skin
Compared to where she's been
As she tiptoes barefoot
To the great door of the cathedral
Unseen
Unclean

The flap of a bat's wing
Masks the deafening creak of the doors hinge
Compared to the silence of her past
As she enters like a ghost
To the great hall of the cathedral
A dark
Embark

The candle flames illuminate her face
Showing the centuries of her disgrace
Compared to the beauty she once was
As she creeps towards the tomb
Beneath the altar of the cathedral
Majestic
Hypnotic

'My love, my king'
Her kiss feels like ice on the marble of the statue
Compared to the warm lips she once kissed
She creeps back out into the shadows
Back to her grave next to the cathedral
To sleep
The eternal sleep