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. |