yanbee

Her

Hell alive in curls of apollo\'s gold,
Scarlet in her eyes like tendrils of smoke,
Lips of lustre, Dionysius\' mold,
Its guileful arch enraptures; her prey choke.

From there, the window, my delusion broke,
my darling, savage lust, you taint this heart 
From this night, my fatal dream, I awoke,
but pray; prey; demon, till death do us part.

Touch of an angel, her electric art
doth deign to knight me; I am but her muse;
my life for her to paint; that is my part,
Tell me, shall I die? How could I refuse?

The sparkling summer sun, it sings a breeze,
Oh you, would not you bring me to my knees?