The fire flickers.
I see her.
Twisted and beautiful.
Dark and alluring.
A succubus in a lovely dress.
A temptress with a seductive smile.
A princess.
In a dead man's tale.
Her lips a dark purple.
Like Death's rose.
I've tasted them before.
And an addiction was brought to light.
She is my bane.
She is my world.
My dark, morbid world.
Her fingertips colored black.
Like Death herself.
The lovely ladely clad in gothic attire.
She smells of decay and lavendar.
With a hint of cinnamon.
The perfect perfume for her.
An attractive corpse.
Wearing the skin of the living.
To see her again.
This night.
So sickeningly special.
That she came to see me.
Only me.
Memory rekindled.
In a candle-lit room.
The moon full and shining.
A white crystal in the black of night.
The embracing blackness of night.
My lovely lady of twilight.
My mistress of delightful suffering.
Must you tempt me so?
I take her hand in mine.
A smile as cryptic as her intent appears.
On those moist, death-kissed lips.
Shall we dance?
We take to the ballroom floor.
A symphony of skeletons playing our tune.
Keeping the music of our dark love flowing.
A lovely couple.
A match made.
In the mind of the wicked.
Shall I tell you.
Of my brush with lady Insanity?