You gave me a lock of your hair,
and said--
Well, I can't recall. Something about love.
From the lock of hair,
a head
began to grow, but with lips no one could kiss.
The gray skin, the eye askew, the wild black hair,
half dead--
it spoke in the night and told me you don't care.
Your body is sweet, but the head is there
when you are not,
and honest. Oh, the things you kept from me!
and so much
it has to say.
______
Wow! Twisted and true--at least parts of it seem like they're straight and true.
ReplyDeletestarted so sweetly and BAM! my stomach turned. :)
ReplyDeleteWhat a Gothic tale! Perfect for the October milieu.
ReplyDeleteThe winds of October activate all the chills in the muse factory, don't they?--frankly, this brings the grue as only you can, and I can almost --almost, because my fingers are firmly in my ears--hear what the head is so very very eager to let us know that is the last thing we want to hear. Totally creeped out now, in the best possible way. This is a fine piece of the craft, Shay.
ReplyDeleteWowzers! A tale as only you can tell it. "And, oh! The things you have to say," Ms Shay. Loved it. Wonderfully macabre.
ReplyDeleteAgh. Very macabre and fantastical yet also very human. Well done. k.
ReplyDeletespare a beautiful
ReplyDeleteALOHA
ComfortSpiral
(\__/)
(='.'=)
(")_(")
Delightfully chilling!
ReplyDeleteOh my!
ReplyDeleteOh, this is delightfully creepy.
ReplyDelete