The Dark Mistress

At night she comes, in torn black dress,
Manifesting from the veil of darkness.
With silken lips, of the devil's hue,
Her eyes exhibit the deepest blue.

Her skin, such a smooth, cold, deathly white,
That can illuminate the darkest night.
Her hair... Those flowing, ebon strands,
Slither seamlessly through my fingers and hands.

Her fragrance is that of flowers long dead,
Her whispers, they echo inside of my head.
We intertwine, in a forbidden dance,
In a spiritual, seductive, lustful romance.

The angels look down, with shame in their eyes,
The envious devils look up and despise.
For the maiden of shadows, had forsaken them all,
And chose me to answer her insatiable call.

The Dark Mistress and I, eternally we crave,
And fulfill untold desires... From beyond the grave.