Beautiful, Stranger

Knowing what was took for granted,
Those shades of night that coldly swell,
She was so grand I did as well;
A shell for what men have wanted.

Tracing that path took great finesse
For her dance went with graceful stride
Having no time for sinful pride;
Such things would wait for death’s caress.

Through shadow and muck I did pull
My tired frame behind her form
To cut out blood and draw it warm;
On such a drink I would be full

She saw me then, and I saw her
Beneath the twisted wicker trees
Yet she would not drop to her knees;
I shut my blade and passed my fir.

The coat held tight across her breast
She moaned and grasped against a wall.
With my guard down we would fall
Until numbness drew from foot to chest.

Then light shone out from hollow stone;
Trapped beneath sheets of graven rock
I shook to hear the iron lock
And her laughing whisper, “All alone.”

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