The dark dance calls softly, like Night Shade or Oleander. Just a little taste... Just one more slow waltz... I can smell her wet orchid while I sleep. She moves languidly through my dreams, possesses me at dawn with lambent steps. The love is violent, like a bullfight. It's sweet and treacherous, ferocious. Fatal for one of us; and she's been gored.
The darkness calls, there is an attraction to chaos and failed love.