Chapter 31:

Marrow Lust

Sarette's Reve De Mort: And Other Stories


Winter sun shining above all the forest, a bird flies by.Bookmark here

Song birds singing of the forest melody, crickets sighing.Bookmark here

Spirits of the night calling for the raindrops, lonely voices stir.Bookmark here

Nightfall looming under the moonlight, wolves are howling.Bookmark here

Gravestone sits on the green hillside, a leaf decays.Bookmark here

Wooden shoe prints upon the sodden dirt, a leaf decays.Bookmark here

In the cottage a fireplace burns hot, dream life born.Bookmark here

Old hand me down skirts one may choose to wear, so adorn.Bookmark here

Within the dressing room, one may hold themselves to another standard.Bookmark here

Sensation for the hand so below the human threshold.Bookmark here

If one could feel the inner lusting like sorrow.Bookmark here

Then perhaps some they wont suck the marrow.Bookmark here

Deathly tomb rots a skeleton queen now resting silent.Bookmark here

Mme Marie lives for the funeral tap, tap dancing for roses.Bookmark here

With a boy in the hair, she violins till moonlight wanes.Bookmark here

The once true life of the girl washed down drain.Bookmark here

Perhaps a life is all that is now left, rotting so profane.Bookmark here

Bookmarked
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