I hear your name whispered on all those sweet lips.
I see all the longin' for your evil kiss.
I know they're all fairer than I'll ever be,
but I've got the magic that your devil needs.
They say I'm a sinner. They say you're a saint.
They say that I'm evil. They say that you ain't.
But they don't know you, not like I do.
They've not laid in your shadow under the moon.
It's back in the dark woods, where old folk won't go,
Under the oak trees, blackened with smoke.
And old ring of stones in a circle of trees,
where the girls used to go to throw down the plea.
"I need you to listen. I need you to call.
I need you to follow. I need you to fall.
'Cause fallin's the magic, and fallin's the spell.
I need you to call on, on my wishin' well."
The truth's at the bottom, in old water green,
where many sad woman, her lover has seen.
But I know the secret, and I know it well,
of one hungry devil in my wishin' well.
You come for the lonely. You come for the cold.
Take all their comforts, and leave their hearts broke.
You feed on the sorrow, grow strong on the tears,
But you've met your match in this one right here.
A lock of my hair. A tear from my eye.
The ache of my heart. My long, lonesome cry.
The hurt of a woman written in ink.
A letter of lost love to the bottom will sink
You'll follow it down, where you belong
in shadows and coldness, and heartbroken song
No dealin' with devils, no soul bound for hell
Just deep old green water, in my wishin' well.
I need you to listen. I need you to call.
I need you to follow. I need you to fall.
'Cause fallin's the magic, and fallin's the spell.
I need you to call on, on my wishin' well.
YOU ARE READING
The Land of Midian: A Poetry Collection
PoetryRandom bits of poetry from various stages of my life. Some are from my high school days. Others are narrative poetry that tell a story. All of them are pieces of my life that followed me through to where I am today.
