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.