Not
angel…
No not me
Fallen perhaps
wings battered, torn, now
black, tarnished wisps past scars.
A succubus, fires calling me
Come closer let me taste your soul.
Devoured essence, swallowing seed
Fingers calling pleasure satisfyed need.
Flames igniting desire burns spirit
Ashes of lust, kiss me, taste me
Command me among seen eyes
Look deeper, depraved sense
Boundaries, without walls
Lustrous energy
Succubus,
Angel
Both.
Karen Hayward ©2017
