A knock, she hears
Upon the front door
Startled, she drops
It all on the floor

Who could it be?
Why are they here?
The calm moment gone,
Now shattered in fear.

She shuffles, she steps
Towards that front door
Her mind, it spins
Dark thoughts, how they soar

Is it her foe?
Shrouded in hate?
Bubbling revenge, and
Unwrapping harsh fate.

She tips, she toes
Closer the front door
Her throat, a knot
A pit in her core

Is it the ghost?
Haunting her dreams?
Banshee spits fumes
While shreaking hot screams.

She trips, she slumps
Against that front door
Her soul, so drained
Can't take any more

Is it the reaper?
Grim to his depth.
Hooded cloak collecting
On the promise now kept.

She weeps, she opens
Dreaded front door
Mere branch, that knocked
Does so no more

It's just the front tree
But the girl does not see,
She does not feel glee
For the girl, she is lost,
Reliving her nightmares three.

Come to me, my darling,
with your pen and your paper,
so I can show you the true lines of a woman.
Trace my contours and follow my curves,
to all the places that you adore,
until your southern borders rise to meet mine.

Can your hand capture the motions we make?
Like silhouettes of swelling grace?
Abandon your ink, and sink into me,
like the universe crashing inside of the sea.
Rock me like waves, bend me like sin,
whisper your pleasure into my skin.

Come to me, my darling,
come into me.