What is love?

Through the mist she drifts in trance

Abandoned restlessness

Eyes like fire in the night

Bare of foot, her kirtle catches on thorns of the rosebush patches

Ripping at her ankles; drawing seeping blood of maroon and black as she floats

A force unknown, where she goes is a mystery

But where she goes is calculated and undieviating

She is led by the moon and stars in the pungent air of a midnight sky

The jackals call to her as she passes

The ravens scream as she ensnares her victim with lucid madness

I am the scars of one hundred thousand wounds, she whispers

I am the broken wing of the butterfly who is fighting for it’s nectar

I am the hiss of the succubus that seeps into the dreams of man while he lay safe

Fast asleep and dreaming of his immortal

I am the sweet, biting sting on the lips of a slow, lingering kiss

I am all and everything

I am the arrow to the heart

Surely you will feel the certain chaoticness of loves great enchantment

And awake with a fever that will not break

J. Rounds ©2015 Peaces of ME

Arrow to the heart.
Arrow to the heart.

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