The Tale of The Queen of Hearts
Clandestine Harmony
I never considered anything to be treason, not even when her lips caressed your skin, not even with her eyes upon your eyes, the lines of her palm tattooing themselves to yours. There was no treason in a love so free from any stigma; there was no treason because I loved her still, yet in the portrait I hung in my mind, though. her scent was mixing with yours, with the odour of tobacco and whiskey, and the smell of your hair. If pheromones could have acted inside my heart, they wouldn’t have known you from her, and it killed me.
Still everything could have waited, everything could have laid still in suspended animation, and everything could have prevailed over the delicate tension we lived in. If I hadn’t seen her, coming nude out from her rooms, with a tired grin in her face and a satin robe misplaced around her. If I hadn’t noticed your pained expression whenever I brushed my hand against hers, pained for her, not for me. If she hadn’t fell asleep upon your chest, dreaming to the beat of your heart. Everyday a new scene to torment us both, whilst she danced a waltz between the ventricles of our hearts.
The orchestra driving us in mad crescendo closer and closer to the fair curves of her mouth, and how she lied to my face and murmured half breath loving words, when her mind was carving my skull, passing through me for the paradise of your tongue.
Still everything could have waited, everything could have laid still in suspended animation, and everything could have prevailed over the delicate tension we lived in. If I hadn’t seen her, coming nude out from her rooms, with a tired grin in her face and a satin robe misplaced around her. If I hadn’t noticed your pained expression whenever I brushed my hand against hers, pained for her, not for me. If she hadn’t fell asleep upon your chest, dreaming to the beat of your heart. Everyday a new scene to torment us both, whilst she danced a waltz between the ventricles of our hearts.
The orchestra driving us in mad crescendo closer and closer to the fair curves of her mouth, and how she lied to my face and murmured half breath loving words, when her mind was carving my skull, passing through me for the paradise of your tongue.