I’m no longer under her spell,

I see her for what she likely really is.

A simple and boring creature,

Just another stain on the world.

Bound to be one more dying shadow.

A memory
dead and tucked away
within the dusty, disorganised, shelves
of my library, archive of mind.
Between
the bay laurel plant and the star of the sea..
Even if she ate organic
and drank of my flesh and seed,
like a goddess for a moment.

N.H.