BRANDED

Love on the Lips of Midas, spark of gold

His liquid poison pries my gems apart

though scorched by his unspoken fire, I hold

to heart the richness of his devilish art.

For careless vows of joy, the wispy breath of freedom,

the scent of pride; so I embark

on my body's orbit around its death -

a song, a scar, sings a mocking lark.

But misery comes not without its prize.

Shame, had I not borne love's mark

or known his finger's touch; which brought these layman eyes

to see, deceived, my skin a golden tone.

One ardent burn for endless woeful bliss

When these cheeks blushed to kingly luscious kiss.