Lady Regret

So, you think you can escape the bitter taste of liquid illusions that present themselves on a pale platter of silence. Do you think that you can tease and taunt the warmth of intoxication to which your false reality has taken like a lover which many sighs has not only entertained? But has danced the night through giving no curiosity to the morbid chill that Lady Regret would some day lay at your feet, and with a kiss upon your screeching moan, and a smile at the frost of your terror, demand her payment in full?

You have eaten the breads of fantasy and sipped the red wines of passion, and have disregarded the conversation of tolerance and forbearance, when the weight of their words began to cut into the dark pit of your soul, causing you to stagger in your walk as one drunken from the torments of deceit.  “Enough!” you shout, as the autumn of time turns her rust colored face away from you so that all you behold are the icy winter locks of her hair, while the dawn of torment reaches out in hopes of embracing you at the very moment your step falters on the line which marks time from eternity.

Did you believe that it would please Lady Regret to not deliver you captive into the clutches of the Warden Death with his evil laughter and mockery of your addiction as he watches with perverted pleasure while you suffer the agony of one who has slovenly eaten the delicacies of the over-indulgent?  Did you? Did you really believe you would never have to pay the price of the dance that has now ended?  The Maestro steps down. Lady Regret waits for the next fool.

Leah Cecile Wilson © 2004