She is lost to serpents coils,
Snaked about her legs and hips,
Scales scented with winter rose,
She rides the silken slide of lips.
Anchored down by fist and mouth,
Moisture slick, consumed by flame,
Questing skeletal fingers fuse,
Collapsing as spindle towers to rain.
Whispered words form a thorny crown,
Crucified by the rapture wake,
She clings to pleasure’s promise peak,
And surrenders to the godly quake.
Her kingdom falls in crystal shards,
Sharply blinding, turns to stone,
Lending midnight lonely cries,
Prisoner to her Judas home.
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