March 27

Datura

Datura, amaranth;
Her scent, it permeates the air.
A peremptory glance,
a darkness I never knew was there –

but so sweet,
this carcinogenic kiss,
delicately
bludgeoning me.

In each eye, a purple crescent.
The darkest shade of silken hair,
yet so softly luminescent.
Her arms ’round my neck in mantis prayer.

Tonight I wed
The Lady Death.
With lips so red
she’ll steal my breath…

She is the end of me.
She’ll take my life into her core.
Anima; legacy…
The Lady Death: Beautiful whore.

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Posted March 27, 2020 by Charlotte Von Woffle Greer in category "All of Charlotte's Poetry

About the Author

From Review: "Charlotte Von Woffle Greer is an artist in the truest sense of the word. Tormented, embattled, strong, fearless and fearful. Curious, and full of wonder yet jaded and defeated at times. An artist shares what they feel. A true and brave artist shares what they feel completely as Charlotte does, in these pages." -Erik Johnson