So celebrate with bread and wine,
With meat and lager,
With laughter and song,
And the slippery kiss of that woman,
Eyeing you from over there.

Outside your door ... another awaits.
One who has always been near,
Persuading you with stars.
Promising nothing, yet granting everything.

It is inconceivable,
So I won't even bother.

But with each passing day,
You step closer to that revelation,
Whether by choice or by fate.
And when the door opens for you,
You may find yourself holding a cold hand.
Her skin is stone, unforgiving, and rigid.
Her silent steps follow close behind.

Your shadow. Your mistress.

*Regret