Purgatory
Her Stainless, white, satin cloth. Untouched by human hands.
Her seamless edges have sharp boundaries it seems, that long for freedom.
White is such an innocent colour, a scar on how she is perceived.
When the lights go down she herself turns down innocence as if giving it rest.
A trapping recurrence, her hand she cannot control.
Afraid of another’s flesh, cast aside a love, eternally damned.
The purgeable truth – Take me to your purgatory.
Mothers wine is missing yet we do not jump to conclusions.
We avoid the truth. We avoid it because it hurts. Purge.
Throw out your religious conceptions and relate to other matters. Love.
Can I not use this word for my own expression? Purge.
When will I be feared? When will I be the accused – the one sent to your dwelling?
The satin cloth, I bear its pureness, its virginity to you and you alone.
Acknowledge. Take it in your hands and feel it’s longing. Fresh.
The time has not come when I can say this has happened.
The purgeable truth – Take me to your purgatory.
You hand me your red, stained satin. It has an abundance of fingerprints.
After all your history, your loves, your fears, your accusations, your blindness.
You give your life to me. You are bruised, satin is ripped, shredded.
You tell me its symbolic meaning. Hope. Yes a red hope. Purge.
I shall wait a while longer; you have reassured me we are meant to be.
I do no longer care about my perception. I have your love. Share with me …
The purgeable truth – Take me to your purgatory.
Her seamless edges have sharp boundaries it seems, that long for freedom.
White is such an innocent colour, a scar on how she is perceived.
When the lights go down she herself turns down innocence as if giving it rest.
A trapping recurrence, her hand she cannot control.
Afraid of another’s flesh, cast aside a love, eternally damned.
The purgeable truth – Take me to your purgatory.
Mothers wine is missing yet we do not jump to conclusions.
We avoid the truth. We avoid it because it hurts. Purge.
Throw out your religious conceptions and relate to other matters. Love.
Can I not use this word for my own expression? Purge.
When will I be feared? When will I be the accused – the one sent to your dwelling?
The satin cloth, I bear its pureness, its virginity to you and you alone.
Acknowledge. Take it in your hands and feel it’s longing. Fresh.
The time has not come when I can say this has happened.
The purgeable truth – Take me to your purgatory.
You hand me your red, stained satin. It has an abundance of fingerprints.
After all your history, your loves, your fears, your accusations, your blindness.
You give your life to me. You are bruised, satin is ripped, shredded.
You tell me its symbolic meaning. Hope. Yes a red hope. Purge.
I shall wait a while longer; you have reassured me we are meant to be.
I do no longer care about my perception. I have your love. Share with me …
The purgeable truth – Take me to your purgatory.