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Color me in Cyanide and Cherry

pagan_wheel_of_the_year_by_estruda-d2o95jb*Image found HERE

Eight of Spades

‘Tis you and I
in the eve of the dead,
serving syrup, blood and vibrant moons
from clasped hands
to the wandering souls.

‘Tis you and I
in the hour where the rotten trunk
will burn with new desires,
when hope is a flaming tongue
and this world – a wound.

‘Tis you and I
written in the frost day,
when secret ills, unspoken wraiths
soil darkened corners,
sit and suck the milk
like hellhounds.

‘Tis you and I,
our feet dangling from a cliff,
giggling like crickets
among wildflowers;
cracking the cosmic egg.

‘Tis you and I
in ribbons merry,
windswept widershins
circling the fairytale
of tomorrows plastic horse.

‘Tis you and I
drinking the sunlight from horns,
the hides of tamed beasts
keeping our bosoms
wild with forests.

‘Tis you and I
on the season slice
when the candle mourns it’s wick,

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