The Night of the Witch

picture credit: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Bewitched-14279638

The faintly illuminated night sky reflects a face devoid of all emotion,

unfocused eyes staring, transfixed to the ground,

while an ancient need, transmitted on a breeze, enters her subconscious.

Like shutters closing, the lights in her eyes die and turn dark

as the veil of obscurity blacks out any trace of who she is, only what she wants,

and she ventures out into the night.

It is you who crosses her path, a magnetic loneliness drawing you in,

inducing a need in you to offer yourself to her

while she stands tall before you, her stare accessing your mind.

She leans in, mischievous lips whispering into your ear that which you wish to hear,

her sweet breath luring you into a darkness that is mesmerising and entrancing,

and without resistance you become the object to the rituals of her pleasure and her pain,

giving up everything, a sacrifice, leaving you drained and bewildered,

as she takes from your mortal body the energy, and from your soul, your sanity,

in this spell of the night that belongs to the witch.