Treasure Island

Alec N. Tanner


To the Sanguine Lady


It was not by chance, nor love's fell kiss
That I came to know your countenance.
But determined sought, this damnable sot
To throw a line on which you caught,
Ravished fish.

Eloquence, the death of abstinence
'Twas no accident, love: but accidence.
Was fate inclined, or in faith consigned
Your body to mine,
Masochist.

Like fire burns, the eye that yearns
This dragon I found in a search for worms.
Sanguine air, sanguine hair
The bloodlet love I'm bound declares
Overtures.

Satin-esque lips, the passionate kiss
That seals your glowing countenance.
Muted green eyes, soundlessly cry
This maelstrom inside
Silences.

Submitted: Thursday, July 18, 2013
Edited: Saturday, July 20, 2013

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