The Asp

The asp spoke
with forked tongue
the marriage of the myth

beyond this realm
as eyes painted black
for love
lover
and host

when silk unravelled
becomes strongest thread
still to shimmer
made through and through
this passion

Lust is but a slide
upon the pillows
of comfort becoming soaked

the poetry of it all
is within the weave
of solid potion
real to the touch
where all else is but a dream

an offering
to age old belief
that one must give the ghost
his due
ending in two
tiny
beads



Dark Mistress � 2002
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