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Succubus

Whose melancholy love

slumbers in your serene arms?

She is darkness incarnate,

and you've become corrupted by fate.

Her savage fingers linger

on your blood soaked chest.

You merely thought...

*what great ***** ***

You poor fool...

She is beyond your reasoning,

unexplainable, but you are hooked.

By morning, she will be gone,

leaving you wanting more.

Addiction for her

will become a self-driven sword.

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Written by
lori-carlson
American
Published
Nov 25, 2010
Lines·Words
15·65
Notes

©2010 Lori Carlson

All rights belong to the author. Please ask permission before using any of her poems.

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