Bête Noire!
This night, the stars disguised, the horseshoes choke the silence And in the room, the shadows bloom, before their lady’s violence.
As she commands, the moths construct the graves of million phantoms.
And in the dark, with hair blond and long, and eyes like burning coal, she is smiling very bitter.
Fairer than a chimera, when her thorns turn to feathers, and her tears into drops of wine.
The perfume of death.
Her lips will whisper things, tales no one wants to know of, tales that haunt you forever and the salamanders cry will posses the living.
When the moon decides to take its own life as a sacrifice She will rule, do not be fooled, you can’t escape her gallows She is our Queen, the Queen of beasts and shadows.
No human mirror can sustain to carry her reflection, only in the eyes of unicorns slides a mere portrait of her deception.
And as she leaves worshiped by skeletons and flies, a charming melody drowns the zephyr.
The song she sang, the night that Gods could not endure her beauty.
Autor: Emma E.K. Jones. Writer, Photographer, Kaltblut Art editor, Musician, Publisher and and
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All Copyrights for photos and drawing @Emma E.K Jones 2012
