Dance Me Outside
She was arrayed in purple and scarlet. With hair black as choke cherries, her eyes the brightest obsidian beneath dark lashes. Hips don’t lie and I marveled with great amazement. Never have I envisioned a more carnal enchantress of an Isis or Cleopatra, Queen of the Damned, perfumed in Prada, knowing she was trouble. 180 proof, her cup was mixed double. “Pretty Little Thing, Owl Dance with Me”. She said, “Would you dance me outside, in the pale of the moonlight, where the lunar rays don’t chase the darkness away, so much as crown it”. Dumbfounded, under her spell, “Well, a dance with the devil could only be right, beneath a night of twinkling stars. Where immodesty shows herself without a veil”. Beauty and the Beast, Jezebel and The Chief. I give her the throne, but she sits upon me. Lips taste like buffalo berries. Drunk with the wine of our fornication, saying take me not just in your body but in your heart. Oh wretched fool that I am. Left to weep and lament, for hedonistic appreciation of my prophetess. If adoration of you is wrong, judge me corrupted. Oh how I’ve fallen for my beloved, into a bottomless pit. Since I can only dream, you’re my Succubus. Pain is love, in bondage my Goddess. I promise this is the last love song wasted on you, but I know it’s not true. So much pain, I hate that I love you.
See all poetry for Daniel Thomas #12242-273