with mother's eyes - III

they take the terror
and make it beautiful.

it's something they love
and they love nothing
more than you.

when they pull back the skin,
it's to move you.
it's to bring the tears
of temptation
and redemption.
it's to bring you
unto
yourself.

as their teeth separate
the sorrows
you've endured,
it becomes a song
you've heard
on the wind
through
the leaves
that fall upon
your twisted
corpse.

nothing more than a memory
of salvation
from razors
slick
with your
thick.

but how they lift you
is something divine
from another time
when you might
have
encouraged
the wicked you were
always capable of.

it is love.
it is mercy.
it is the taunting
memory
of a song
you just can't place.
and in your haste,
you feel the lashings
of  leather
and lace
against your
expectant flesh.

and they do this for you
under the star cast moon
that shines
like the ripened
eyes they tore
from you
before
so that you might see
in the same way
and become free.

her hands along your
throat,
plucking away
the breaths,
one by one
until the sun
comes
and makes you live once more
to be a feast
for the
whore
of damnation
that has always held
your soul
in this love
and lore.

and you'll awaken
again
to the moon
along the star cast
night
for the end
to come
ripping
again
because it's all
you've ever
been.

the plush fingers
holding your heart,
linger
at the arteries
until the tissues
part
in such a way
to take
the whole of you
into the evil
you never thought
could exist
this way
in ecstasy.

and you sing
amen
to the blessings
they bestow.