Haunted eyes
wrapped in misery.
You are already dead,
so why should you feel pain?
Pain is your purgatory
little girl, a grand gift
from scales that can never
be balanced in your favor.
Haunted eyes they may be,
but I see defiance, strength,
lingering deep, always
ready to rise to the surface.
Never did death look so beautiful
A perfection in form chiseled
from stone beaten up and torn
down by the elements.
You wear your cloak well,
dark and tear stained, wrapped
tight around a body that
still flies free.
You are my beautiful dead girl.
with cold hands clenching tight around
a warm heart
that beats just for you.
by Philip Wardlow
Ain't no rest for the Wicked - Philip Wardlow - The real and the sensual sides to life in all its facets.. 
The artwork and the poem… Absolutely breath-taking. Well done!
Thanks,,,,,can’t take credit for the artwork…tried to give online credit for that but couldn’t find the artist but the poem is all mine…:)
This was brilliant and striking sir. Major kudos on tapping in the core of something beautiful in the most unconventional ways. I really connected with it and that’s a rarity on my part when browsing the artistic community in its whole. I’m using some of this poem in some of my pictures, I hope that’s okay. I’m crediting you in them.
Thanks for the compliment Cay T…I have not problem with you using the poem….:)
Reblogged this on Ain't no rest for the wicked – Philip Wardlow and commented:
An oldie bit a good and appropriate for October…:)