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Fleur Du Mal -> RE: Weird Poetry (5/3/2009 10:22:24)
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The First Wife of Bluebeard
I waited for you by the forest path,
the silver moon rose high and pale
over my body, shivering in the cold, cold gale.
I waited for you by the clear lake,
while the sun burnt down the greenest of weeds
and the draught smothered the last of your seeds.
I waited for you, you never came.
I was a fool to think I could master the game.
I was a fool to ignore your bad name.
I waited for you by the doorstep,
your friends had parted, and you walked alone,
the night turned old, and you returned home.
I waited for you only to ask,
Why did it seem you wanted me no more?
You gave me no reason except I was a bore.
I had waited for you, now I wanted to leave.
Drunken and enraged, you pushed me out of your way.
I lost my balance, never saw the next day.
I waited for you, you had another dame.
I was a fool to think I could master the game.
I was a fool to ignore your bad name.
I'll be waiting for you by the aisle,
when the father gives away your second bride,
when you grab the gun and she cannot hide.
I'll be waiting for you by her grave,
after the authorities have you ruled,
after the act is finished and you have them fooled.
I'll be waiting for you by the down town bank,
while you cash in the insurance for our lives.
Oh, I see what happens to your wives.
I waited for truth, indeed it came.
I was a fool to think I could master the game.
I was a fool to ignore your bad name.
I'll be waiting for you in the parking lot,
when you step in the car and turn the key,
when you look in the mirror to see the corpse that was me.
I'll wait for you to attempt an escape,
I'll watch as you run out into the thickening fog,
I'll watch as you trip over a rotting log.
I'll wait for your answer
when I ask you to follow me home,
when you wish this to be dream and scream, “No!”
I waited for you to take your aim.
I was a fool to think I could master the game.
I was a fool to ignore your horrid name.
I'll wait no more as you crawl in mud.
With fingers of bone, I pull you up,
don't care about the sound tendons make when they pop.
I'll wait no more when I hiss,
“Darling, I've never seen you like this.
Say, is there something amiss?”
I'll wait no more for your silent plea,
for it's time for you to swallow your wine,
“Which grave you choose, hers or mine?”
To do you apart, the death then came.
You were a fool to think you could master the game.
Victims and murderers, to death we are all the same.
Maybe the reader is waiting for me to tell,
what my darling answered, with whom he shall dwell.
It matters not, we are on the same side of hell.
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