Night
October 24, 2016
‘Twas not a fear till she crossed my eyes
Unlike my own
Hers were barren and absent life
That very same void shifted from black to white
As her idle knives would open wide
This little old devil turned water to wine
To exist in her world, that was my only crime
For it all belonged to the Devil’s wife
My only punishment
To be consumed by the tide
Alas, it returned from day to. . .