It is not a dance
It is a ritual
We mock each other's visage
I smell the flesh that surrounds us
A meal to be had
A device to my demon
Yet he holds my attention
A dance of fate
A mosh of desire
His hands lock where his eyes dare not wander
It is a ritual
We mock each other's visage
I smell the flesh that surrounds us
A meal to be had
A device to my demon
Yet he holds my attention
A dance of fate
A mosh of desire
His hands lock where his eyes dare not wander
Thoughts of brutality
Senses of desire
A killer in my web
My claws grace his chin
I feel his fangs swell
Charmer
I won't give me up
A snarl is greeted by a sly smile
Charmer
Be he my mortal enemy
or be he my immortal lover
This moment is a pirouette in passion