Blog, Gothic, Poetry, Writing

Succubi Bride

Of smoke,

Which curdles in the light

And mirrors,

Who shatter should I look away,

Nothing of the Earth,

Can whip me to a deeper frenzy,

As your eyes of black,

Which ignite with wordless desire,

My heart that cannot fail,

To crave to love,

Your form;

Metaphysical – a manifested dream,

That cradles me each night,

Lest I slip back to my own world.

 

 

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