Lord Byron's Seduction
I cry out to Lord Byron nightly,
And he comes to me in the realm between fantasy and reality.
He speaks of darkness and sings of my ethereal pain.
You, unlike those that came before or after,
Are the only one who can understand.
Fear of the gripping reality that lies ahead,
The wretching sound of impending fall out...
Cannot compare to you coming to me at dusk.
You rape me seductively with your words,
Using me as your vessel of communication.
With each stroke of your feathered quill,
My inhibitions fall away...drunk from the scent of ink-soaked parchment.
An addictive ritual has become my most fatal attraction.
A spiritual gift, perfectly erred...
Wrapped tightly in your embrace.
And on the eve of our last encounter,
Left me writhing in the midnight hour.
Copyright © Toni Ann Nasi | Year Posted 2011
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