The High Priestess

He just dropped in
For days missing
Didn’t ask him where he’d been
I already knew then
So what difference was asking?

I am his high priestess
His confessions fall upon me any hour
And do I not rise to the call when he is his weakest?
I am his to fall

So resting now his wishes
Here sins have no power
The gates to heaven are keyless
Looks like love has no wall

He was spending all his time at the mire
Messages got stuck along the wire
And drawing colder yet flame from fire
Eyes perched on devil hands with buyer

Just when I believe you’ve disappeared for good, you’re at my feet whispering “I love you”.

I own a tiny piece of his heart
And I carry it so deep in me
It’ll never break apart

What are you waiting on?

So patiently in the dark
So far from where I thought

You’re Father Stark

If you aren’t him and he isn’t you
Then who in the world am I talking to?

Where do the tides take you?
Pulling from destiny
Are you hurt too?
You are magnetic
But you are not a moon
I feel me falling
I hope there’s light coming soon

The gates of hell have already been opened
The 7th seal now broken
But I will die loving you
That is certain

The sun is expanding
Time covers your beard in doom
A reminder my heart’s worth saving
Should it pass you soon

He sends me pictures I normally wouldn’t approve
And if I’m lost among the shadow, he’ll build a statue
For even when light is narrow, we make a new noon
For time is like an arrow, space the canoe
And riding now forever, the love we accrue

If we were a map, what would we be?
Would you be part of my destiny?

© Delia Ross. 2021 / @poeeternal

He just turned up – with casual conversation and a deep desire to linger on my existence.

Conversation you’d expect a couple that’s been together for 20 years to be having (I just mean the connection- not the topic, that’s irrelevant).

Just flew in – landed at my feet – i love you.

Heaven got a chance to rest too.

For a blink.

But for that moment, I so badly wanted to rub my fingers over his head. And let him snuggle on my arm so I could breathe on his head lightly.

He ends the war in my head.

When I’m not crying over him being with her – or that my destiny is to die unloved on the fucking street.

If I’m lucky I might get a box for my bones.

My end of the world pandemic look (which is basically yesterday’s make up that I slept in because I haven’t really been able to sleep since he said he loved me).

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