He tasted darkness as a child
never noticing the prelude
of gathering storm.
The brightness of the sun
was for lesser eyes.
To him diamonds were just
baubles and roses another
shade of red.
He tread Gothic hallways
became a lost soul smeared with ash.
Ash that now hides graying hair and
He met her one dark and gloomy night
while contemplating the fearful symmetry
of a grave.
Her waist was thin gathered in
by the tightest leather. There was
a funereal charm to her red sunken eyes
and a coquettish lurch as she tried
not to stumble in her thigh high
Her hair was made of shadow but
for one lightning streak of silver
etched in red to match the brand
she displayed on her cheek.
She was so perfect! Like every
dream of every darkling thing he
As a train rumbled by they stood
eye to eye.
She said " I got a bullet for your thoughts"
He said "All my thoughts are already dead"
She said "You will do"
And what a way to go! I'll not worry if "the last train" is a cliché' since it fits here so as to be the rule rather than anything trite.
The "smeared with ash" thing is part of a religious rite which goes along with "Remember, man, that thou art dust, and to dust thou shalt return" or so the magic of google says. Lies I tell you, we are much more than dust alone. The same lies tell us that we are mortal. Train, boat or even a space ship, we're expecting to go somewhere.
Hmmm… I am left with a positive impression. It seem to lag a little in some places, however, your descriptions are perfect. Just enough to make me fill in the blanks. I like that. I also loved the end, again you imply without forcing the image upon the reader. This is always good writing strategy, IMNSHO, because it allows for deeper connection to be made by the reader, whether or not they were ever intended or there in reality. I would watch getting too clichéd because you sort of danced on that line a few times (probably the parts that “lagged” a bit for me, if I was doing a truly in depth analysis.). Over all though I would say nicely done.