Why am I waking at this witchful hour?—
What succubus enspells with such a power
As to beguile this ebon-rosèd bower?
I glimpse her nymphish form upon the air,
A demoness mysterious and fair—
A scarlet perfume-specter, starlight-rare.
The roses whisper with their sleepy lips
Black phantasies.... The dew like diamonds drips
From petals played with by her swaying hips....
I ache to clutch her in nocturnal lust,
But I am thwarted as the burning gust
Of my own breath dispels her haunted dust.
on the FREEZINE of
Fantasy and Science
Fiction
Well done. A fine music, and it takes me beyond myself.
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