Your spell, black magic
and I can’t decide
If it’s my will to bend
or your fire that molds
And if there is a difference
what difference can it make?
Resulting in the same
I worship at your feet.
This lust that grows within me
under you spell
and the feeling invoked
as you watch as I writhe
destroyed in your fire and smoke
Did you steal my heart?
Do you hold it captive
like this broken body
injured in your care?
but my mind is not my own
and I haven’t got a care
as long as you are here
close to me in this hell.
Settled by this forge
soaking in the heat
I laugh and I scratch until I bleed
and as the blood soaks the floor
you stand and you stare, wordless
And then you crouch before me, eyes of fire
mesmerizing my own bruised mirrors,
You show me a heaven and I’m calmed
as your clawed and dirty hand lands
softly to scratch at my tender skin.
Your spell re-weaves and I’m bound and cloaked again.
Docile and complacent, settled at your feet.
I take every accidental touch and meaningless brush
of your flesh against mine and I worship
in the lightning that flashes and spreads
from limb to limb.
I’ll never escape, never be free of this
sickened and changing I’m losing.
My will or yours, its all the same.
If I ran and found my freedom,
I’d leap off the highest peak,
so I could come back, and settle at your feet.