Thorny Kiss

In the silent moments before the clock hits midnight,
I find myself sitting beneath that oak tree,
Gazing absently in the intricate dance of stars above, expecting her with glee,
The gathering storm rumbles to the west tonight,

I can sense her hunger long before she appears in my sight,
The coppery tang reaching my heightened senses, she has already indulged this night,
Bringing with it a whiff of something else, something sacred, something pure,
The fragrance of the Acolyte,

She approaches me with a determined step,
The lavish red dress adhering to her slender form gracefully,
Her marble skin shining in the moonlight,
Her lips curled in a wicked smile,
Smeared with the glistening crimson blight,

I watch in horror as she falls in my arms still smiling,
‘It is time,’ she says and her fair hand touches my cheek wet with tears,
Her lips move in the night, soundless and beguiling,
My eyes close, our lips touch, and  loose I let my fears,

The gathering storm marks her passing,
Her green eyes forever staring in the sky above,
There’s no more time for compromises,
My eyes open, red and malign, while deep within the beast arises,

Angel’s blood has been spilled this night,
And only blood will slake this thirst,
Man is neither angel nor beast,
and the misfortune is that he who would act the angel acts the beast,
A woe sealed beneath that oak tree with a thorny kiss.

Photo by darksouls1

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