Bride Of Gothica

This is a poem I wrote solely to be interpreted by you. You alone. If you try to see meanings I have hidden in it I am afraid you will fail miserably. I have hidden none. On that happy note, read, enjoy, despise (it is up to you) and for now, I bid you a truly fond 'catch ya l8r! ^^'
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Attenuated yet vindictive seraph
vying for obsolete perfection
to give, to take, to justify
from starry rivers to gelatin sky
(no more than a mere obsession).

Sordid and insiduous beloved
shrouded in ribbons of gossamer thread
do not disturb her crystal reverie
(before the sun drowns out at sea)
frail, with accentuated aureole, to wed.

Disconsolate for undefined aspiration
more or less ten thousand years
(rather akin to jaded nightingales)
for a flowerbed of magenta hail
encumbers thought, defiled by tears.

Sinful thus delicious embrace
(accepting, yield unwitting redemption)
as the evening sky reverberates carmine
in shades akin to the most luscious wine
binding the heavens with godly exemption.

(Serene virgin, now incensed)
Naivety flees from precarious eyes
for in the air anonymity flutters
through open hearts, and closed shutters
by the ligneous floor on which she lies.