There's a grain of truth in every story.
Added 2024-06-26 15:12:13 +0000 UTCIn the dead of night, by a black candle's flame,
In a room veiled in shadows, where whispers name,
A mirror stands waiting, its surface aglow,
With the pull of the moon in a soft, silken show.
Full moon's silver gaze through the window's thin lace,
Casts a light so enchanting, a tender embrace.
Stand before the mirror, let your breath become slow,
Feel the stir of desire, a sensual flow.
Fix your eyes on reflection, but look past the glass,
Seek the space beyond you, where shadows amass.
With focus unbroken, gaze deep, and you'll find,
In the corners of sight, what teases the mind.
Lilith may rise, from the depths she will sway,
A whispering succubus, in a languid display.
In the periphery, she dances, with touch so divine,
A wraith of seduction, in the moon's silver line.
Her presence a thrill, in the still of the night,
A brush of sweet longing, a kiss of delight.
For in mirrors at midnight, by black candle's gleam,
Lie the borders of passion and the edges of dreams.
