"Interlaced Allure" by Kathleen Morgaine Haubrich

Interlaced allure

Interwoven grace has ever prevailed through refrained, still harvested Decay. Alight with severed peril, thy mirage streams before me, wistful and faint, spiraling about the verdant trees. Vain to thine own weary cause, pale as dusted snow, daemon’s fairest figure, stirring sweet amidst thoust-corded boughs. Shifting and rapid, her silhouette tangled whence apt to endless query, fervid and fearful. I descend from atop thy watchful branch, unyielding as the lingering scars, mine own pursuit has commenced. I draw ever near, lapsed in the quickest while, she turns, eyes asunder and lips scarcely parted. I lift a willing hand, whilst fingers lace about her raven locks, though seldom noticed, her stalk wanes on. Olive and auburn, her ill-struck aura repels thy dim-lit wood, unknown to fare the unforgiven. Mine eye but pleads to trace the tilt of her pallid gown, pouring out onto the ravaging forest earth. Inquisitor to purity, asperser to flawed innocence, I shall smite opposing sight as beasts should doth thy tainted sorrow.

Alas, the maiden’s steps did cease, and dark distress entangled her. The torrents of varmint and creatures lye, availed their lucid wizard, thy bidder of very darkness. In deep destitution, the snow maiden peered out into the dismal swamp, and felt raw, strong arms embrace her from behind. Thence, chilled and pulsating, dark veins of jade embossed and contoured to her body. With poise denied and sense thus failed, both wood lord and pure allure dwindled far into the abyss, weak and wasted. Succumbed to the flood of sin, violent surges formed upon the bog’s surface, uneasy and quaint, raging.

Thence, from thy savage water, I emerged as ever, the spineless lord of gloom, swift and sure. Dark hair clung about my sinuous neck as I saunter nigh, whilst lesser minions form coupled lines, aligned. Henceforth, as from the core of pleasure, arose the snow maiden. Ashen gown now thick, russet, and torn. Charcoal locks bore ivy weeds, in ever harvest, disarray. Cloaked with seeping sin, unhallowed fiend to thou, let wandered gaze. Her lovely face, lips now in yearn of revel, and eyes ablaze with steadfast sloth. This self-same maiden’s altered soul, barren now to mercy, forevermore. For amidst thy bleak druids did she tread, upon the winding veins of my lair, she draws near. Implored and dwelled within her gaze, creeps the hint of woe, tamed as by the zeal of crimson wine. The durating stare serrated my very essence, spared of withering content. Thence amiss, her lips do graze across my own, scented unapt desire in her breath.

Oh, the wicked covet of stolen endearment. The grindstone of gentle suffocation and ecstasy.