Post by Marie Vulffe on Apr 29, 2006 15:40:58 GMT -5
Based off of my multi-crossover fic, Ghost of the Sun. From Xan to Lark.
You touched your lips to my face;
Did you enjoy the way my skin tastes, brother?
I felt the heat come off your skin,
Flushed with heart-fire from within.
Platonic gestures, your brother’s kiss;
When you held me, I almost wished
That you would keep your arms around me,
And say we’re much more than what others see.
You could look at me once and make me weak;
And suddenly the future wasn’t quite as bleak.
Even if nothing could come of this,
I kept holding out for one more kiss.
You held my hand when no one cared,
And kissed my scars whenever they bled.
No one will know that each time I cried,
It was always you that kissed them dry.
Everything now is in days long past,
I wish I’d known; perfection never lasts.
I try to recall you as you were then,
When a brother’s kiss not disclosed, but belied his sin…
You played to perfection; androgyny, tourniquet,
A well-placed word to keep the bleeding in check;
With soothing hands and a pliable mask,
Maneuvering hearts to do as you ask.
The memories fade; betrayal takes the fore.
I hide from the world the scars that you tore…
But in nightmares I see; a drop of blood on an ashen cheek;
Eyes black and specious, while it’s truth that you speak.
All I ever wanted from you was grace;
And if you’ll forgive me brother, for not knowing my place-
You knew that you had me at your own mercy;
It was not I who saw a dagger before me.
It was never enough, the platonic gestures;
A kiss, an embrace between two brothers.
Past made perfect, I loved you…before…
And you knew all along that I wanted more.
A fabricated fairytale, a derisive pretense;
You had me enthralled with a rose-tinted lens.
Almost all that I longed for I received from your touch…
And you knew it was never, not even near enough.
Not once did you slip, not once did you stagger;
In this game of roulette, did I ever matter?
Friend, I thought I knew you, and I think I still do…
You’ve bought your own lie, and think it the truth.
The thing you’ve become, this Pain incarnate,
I can’t bear to think of when we last met:
Your illusive voices, shredding my core;
Lies and truths and lies, leaving me, bloody, on the floor.
You’ve used and drained me, false tourniquet, brother,
Saying things I dread being heard by another.
You, who held my hand, when no one ever cared,
You, who kissed the pain away, when I wept and bled.
I still feel your last kiss, brother, every now and then.
When I hold my breath, and dream, and think of sin.
You touched your lips to my throat…
Did you enjoy the way my blood goes down, Judas?
© Marie Vulffe, 2004
You touched your lips to my face;
Did you enjoy the way my skin tastes, brother?
I felt the heat come off your skin,
Flushed with heart-fire from within.
Platonic gestures, your brother’s kiss;
When you held me, I almost wished
That you would keep your arms around me,
And say we’re much more than what others see.
You could look at me once and make me weak;
And suddenly the future wasn’t quite as bleak.
Even if nothing could come of this,
I kept holding out for one more kiss.
You held my hand when no one cared,
And kissed my scars whenever they bled.
No one will know that each time I cried,
It was always you that kissed them dry.
Everything now is in days long past,
I wish I’d known; perfection never lasts.
I try to recall you as you were then,
When a brother’s kiss not disclosed, but belied his sin…
You played to perfection; androgyny, tourniquet,
A well-placed word to keep the bleeding in check;
With soothing hands and a pliable mask,
Maneuvering hearts to do as you ask.
The memories fade; betrayal takes the fore.
I hide from the world the scars that you tore…
But in nightmares I see; a drop of blood on an ashen cheek;
Eyes black and specious, while it’s truth that you speak.
All I ever wanted from you was grace;
And if you’ll forgive me brother, for not knowing my place-
You knew that you had me at your own mercy;
It was not I who saw a dagger before me.
It was never enough, the platonic gestures;
A kiss, an embrace between two brothers.
Past made perfect, I loved you…before…
And you knew all along that I wanted more.
A fabricated fairytale, a derisive pretense;
You had me enthralled with a rose-tinted lens.
Almost all that I longed for I received from your touch…
And you knew it was never, not even near enough.
Not once did you slip, not once did you stagger;
In this game of roulette, did I ever matter?
Friend, I thought I knew you, and I think I still do…
You’ve bought your own lie, and think it the truth.
The thing you’ve become, this Pain incarnate,
I can’t bear to think of when we last met:
Your illusive voices, shredding my core;
Lies and truths and lies, leaving me, bloody, on the floor.
You’ve used and drained me, false tourniquet, brother,
Saying things I dread being heard by another.
You, who held my hand, when no one ever cared,
You, who kissed the pain away, when I wept and bled.
I still feel your last kiss, brother, every now and then.
When I hold my breath, and dream, and think of sin.
You touched your lips to my throat…
Did you enjoy the way my blood goes down, Judas?
© Marie Vulffe, 2004