Kingu's Bride

Thunder crashes into me

as I step from the threshold

sprinting down a misty hallway

Fog rises up my ankles

and the air is electric

with the touch of cold hands

playing my spinal cord like a lyre

Struggling to remember a face

when comes the chill of a spirit,

who pursues and obsesses

as I look down to behold

myself donned in a white gown.

French doors blown wide

by a relentless storm

Gazing to the edge of the stone balcony

The sky raining hail

loud explosions of water, assaulting

screaming upon the stone

as I glimpse him in the darkness

standing in the marshes below

I shut my eyes

and grip tightly the door handles

Deep black eyes searching mine

through the distance

like a spirit who longs for its bride.

His is the sight I cannot bear.

Pale green

scaly flesh

his webbed fingers

tentacles that protrude,

from his face.

That call forth madness and confusion.

So grotesque

I could not bear to look upon him

and yet…

As I gaze out these doors

a sadness falls upon my face.

I know this place

and my mate

as well as I know myself

always together

yet forever apart,

pursuing one another.

A sadness graces me

two halves play the game

one always pursues the other

connected and magnetized

attracted and repulsed.

Strangers came to our marble halls

citing platitudes and bearing gifts

yet I cannot recall

why they have come.

A shadowy slumber passes over me

and I find my way back

to my single bed,

where I fall into dreaming once more.