she smells like cinnamon, rose water
and jasmine - intoxicating
and cold - as if pitched by the moonlight;
as she broods closer you can taste calcite and blood
her expiration is hallucinating poison - dissipating pain from every vein in your body
as she hauls even nigher - leaving you cataplexed
craving for more and more and more...
she encompasses you like dew-drops outline the curves of fresh grass on an April morning - supreme and everlasing.
and you capitulate - venerating
for she is Death