He moves slowly, through slow chaos.
She writhes lithely on the chaise lounge,
Appreciating his dark shape,
His dark thoughts...
Someone hesitates
And Death reaches with one claw,
Then Love bats one rouge eye
And the two recollect
One heated night,
She takes a breath
And sighs, dropping her warm breast,
That Death has always bitterly caressed
In those cold, witty claws.
Love groans,
Death pauses.
And drops knowingly to his wicked knees
Whilst Love bends and opens her eaves
To his ravishes
They stop
They start.
Such is the petty fate of men,
The two are forever entwined .
