You, a wanderess. Me, a wanderer.
Our paths crossed on the journey in search of more.
One moonless eve, under a starless sky, we invited the darkness in.
In the dead of night you pleaded for more amidst our burning, virgin kiss.
We came to life in the darkness.
The unspoken need to stoke the fire inside us grew restless in our touch.

Our odyssey required no light.
We set sail on a journey in search to feel more.
In search of reprieve from vacuity’s jagged blade.
The bolder we dared to be; the deeper we plunged into the jet-black abyss.
What we carried in our hearts for each other was and was not love in the same breath.
Inside us raged a Stygian lust born of a great, burning passion.

A poem born of passion will pierce hearts and bring the mighty to their knees.
A kiss without passion is the lifeless act of touching lips.
Take heed, if you dare to kiss with passion’s fire, you will forever ache for more.

For passion spawns a ravenous hunger.
Passion spawns dizzying madness.
Passion spawns eternal torment.
Passion spawns breathtaking beauty.

Oh, what wondrous and beautiful things revealed themselves in the dark.
Things as old as time.
Things never meant for human eyes.
Pure things – unjudged, untouched, and uncorrupted by light.
They painted our souls a richer, deeper, darker shade.

Light reflects.
Darkness absorbs.
Darkness penetrates.
Darkness is absorbed.

Our time on Earth is unnoticed.
A single gasp and we are forever erased from time's memory.

In the darkness, we shed our skin.
Stripped down to our souls, and yet, it wasn't naked enough for us.
We fed on each other's consecrated, liquid sin and were born again.
You fucked me with gnashing teeth and slashing claws.
You scored my flesh the bloodiest of reds.
My hands around your throat - the rope of the Gallows Pole.
I stabbed at your cunt with my cock glowing white hot,
Fresh from the great fire of passion.

Heaven is not a place for souls like ours.
We dared, and prayed to the Gods to damn us.
Together. Forever.

On Earth as it is in Heaven.
All flesh is weak.
How could the Angels not take notice?
Like moths to open flames they took wing from the light.
So that they might gaze upon the passion and rage with which we fucked.

As Icarus, they were led into temptation, dared too near, and fell from grace.
Delicate wings ignited by the same flame that consumed you and me.
Their fate sealed – they would fly nevermore.
The flame licked and quickly engulfed the celestial voyeurs.
Their honeyed, pious incense filled our nostrils.
Their ash lazily swirled on invisible eddies about our entwined bodies.

Angered, the Gods granted our wish.
A Pyrrhic victory.
Together. Forever.

As we fucked.
Surrounded in a circle of dying light from
The burning flesh of Angels.