Burnt Flowers

Burnt flowers became ashes of anguish and despair
Within a realm full of wonders and sorrow
Snowflakes were melting into blood and fire
In the liminal space between night and day
Where the fury of storms encounters the peace of graveyards
And the only melody I could hear was a funereal fanfare
Feeling horny and mortified simultaneously
Feeling alive and dead indefinitely
I started burning all the flowers in my garden
Every magnificent blossom screamed violently
But I felt a deep delight and bliss
Reminding myself that I was going to die alone
In a lake of blood and tears
Without any consolation
Without any funeral or elegy

Once dead
I became an obsidian raven
Insolent and powerful
Finding my amusement in bringing bad omens to mortals
And sleeping at the top of dead and decaying trees
Enjoying the scent of burnt flowers and incense
Being caressed by the gleaming flames was my supreme merriment
And observing how easily mortals were afflicted by deflagration and obliteration
I could freely grin in front of their astonished countenances
Although I had always aimed to be cherished
Although I had always wanted to be adored
All that I could attain was only a box of bones and thorns

Who, indeed, could ever have consoled me?
Among the shadows surrounding me
A frozen indifference was being offered to me in a silver cornucopia
With shady candles and daggers
Swallowing sweet poison and toxic blood made me a sorceress
I was detached from the world of ghosts and illusions
By intentionally becoming a creature of the underworld
Although the sky belonged to me as well
Scorching from the inside as a way to make my existence bearable
Every pang of mine was a blissful lust, and my body could perceive the intensity of such torment.
Elisabetta Esther