The Parching of My Core/Poetic Prose

Within this, my dark bower, I remember magical shadows, whispering tender lips pressed and parted; meeting desire to heed the reckless savage.  I am held here, clouted down to drown my wretched soul - my earth bleeding red behind the shame of it, yet clinging to its pleasure.

As air escapes life's lungs, it harvests salvation from my lover's lies, those held deep within his eyes for which I knew and tended not, and yet - I mourn.  I ache within each echo's flight, laboring my breath behind soft branches within this parching of my core.

Am I never to be famed as more than this; the woeful sobs of a woman scorned, left without care as my bosom winces for his touch again to make it whole?  Caverns carved in yesterday's dreams blend my life beyond limitations, hold the world in its palm, while all the resentment and bitter words feed the noise before my reverberations calm.

I would beg beyond measure for one mere morsel of respect to find my dignity, but I cannot hide the meaning that my heart portrays mid the tallying of time when there is no remorse shown for deeds done, and I, a victim of charade, prance embarrassment past those who dare to judge.