She sits still in a corner
He juts in to the room
White butterflies adorn her
He carries darkest doom
She keeps her feelings hidden
He knows of them and sighs
She cowers as was bidden
They both eye up her thighs
She loves those undeserving
Ignoble hands, he grasps
She holds his gaze unnerving
He takes without an ask
She mounts a throne of wounding
He spouts a light impure
She counts the nights in bruising
His will to shape contours
She bathes herself in shadow
He takes with him the light
She dreams it a fandango
He lets her think she's right
She makes her home the corner
He makes her house a hell
She smiles inside her torpor
He knows she'll never tell