Veiled in shade, lying in wait,
she advances into the light,
She shows her face,
and draws
near.

Sunbright and passionate,
she dances, shining and sharp
and flashing her jaws.

She summons me to her
and I dare not refuse her beauty,
cannot decline such a simple request...

Dressed in a blackened carapace
of cobwebs, and once
silver silk,

lost again and very virgin,
gifted with backbreaking grace
and abandoned by human laws,
she is broken of trust.
Now wicked and warped,

wearied, wary, she begins.

Sweet cinnamon and nothing nice;
lips, limbs, lies, and lust,
and a slow beating heart touched by ice -

Sneaked away without a trace,
to and fro, quiet as mice.

She throws me to bed,
hard enough to disturb the dust.

No ado, no delay,
we engage
as she spreads her legs.

Faster she spins,
coiling round me, gripping tighter,
rolling, moaning,
breath heaving,
growing our pace, toward

most exquisite, most expressive sins.

Feeling, weeping,
calling, weaving.
Tongues lashing,
claws rending
fabric,

breaking silence and bending steel,
far enough to disturb the rust.

Seized hard by darkness and needles,
fire and pins, we're
locked together, groaning.
Screaming bodies falling from
bed, leaving in our wake
a dusty,
sticky lace.

Laying softly, flat and tender,
one atop the other,
bust to bust
and looking down
she kisses me, she bites me, the feral creature.

A gasp and then I'm silently screaming,
I cry out again, I'm not quite
breathing.

Smoldering like embers,
we shift. Crumbling, I
collapse slowly, gazing, blazing upward
and going to ground,
taking in her every perfect, jagged feature.