| Faustine by Bobby Whitworth |
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| The words of the poet have lead Me unto thee, O beautiful woman the dead Hath named Faustine. The lord in heaven's die has gone askew, my queen, And abondoned you to the song Of death, Faustine. The one that holds no contempt for Any living Thing has let your unborn soul, your love fall, Faustine. But he that holds his evil tongue Upon thy sheen, Dampens not they beauty, that's sung In hell, Faustine. Your evil love, the vitrue of Vice; hot between The legs of this one that I love; This one, Faustine. Do the vultures destroy your flesh As I would mean To do? I know that you do miss that touch, Faustine. As Dolores was, you shall be, Our painful queen. Your soft touch is a painful dream Which I, Faustine, Would love to feel. Your pale bosom Pressed tightly in My embrace, the touch so smooth, come To me Faustine. I still wonder if I could tame Your heart: pale, thin. I wonder how anyone came Within, Faustine. I would gladly kiss the lips that Had once been seen To kiss the lips of Bacchus that One god. Faustine, Would you deliver thy poison Unto my thin, Spread lips? I still would have chosen It, fair Faustine, And die a billion deaths just to Make love, pale queen, I would gladly do this for you, My love, Faustine. Will you not spare me a portion of the boy's seam, Maggots who feed upon the skin Of my Faustine? I should not beg of you, vile worms, But take the green Earth from my queen and see the form That is Faustine. This one for whom I cry, knows not Of my tears gleem. She never knew me, that torrid, Fiery Faustine. But perhaps you can now feel my Laments and dreams And follow me from thy grave by My love, Faustine. And Whate're demons you must bring From your hell, seen Dancing on hill with evil sting, Bring them, Faustine. I would endure the morning star Himself, unclean. I would endure the fires afar For thee Faustine. Enduring the serpents gory tongue Would be therein A pleasure to hear your sweet song Aloud. Faustine, The opposing angels bewail Thy one name in Hell. Whatever wrong you befell, I forgive Faustine. |
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