We dressed in leather for her pleasure
Adopting all the poses she selected
From the vast assortment offered
By the demon-thing that dwelt
Where once her love had lived.

In little ways we supplicated
Offering our willingness and the belief
that our belief made real the things that
We desired and she required
To light the fires of her fantasy.

We understood explicitly
That her lovely heart
Was just as lost and just as cold
As the albino souls of vampyres
(And as difficult to hold).

But nonetheless we undertook
To win a certain measure
Of dark reflected pleasure
In her silent recognition
And the beauty of her dance.

So we lived there in her underground,
Bared our souls to her hungry gaze
As we lay down on her altar
And submitted to the pain
That was inherent in her glance.

Now her presence is a memory
A dim and dark imagining
That I shudder just to think about
In the warm clear light of day
And the happiness around me.

But the shudder that runs through me
Also thrills me as it chills me.
And I think about the evenings
When we haunted her underground
In search of what I could not grasp:

An elusive, mythic ripening;
The fulfillment of potential
For the awesome state of godhead
That we neared but never captured
When we followed in her shadow.