phoenix tears may heal,
but my fires can also destroy;
illuminate nightmares
for who they truly are—
i will rip your charming mask off
make them see you are not
an angel but rather a devil,
but not just any demon but the one
that goes by the name
armand;
maybe they’ll still defend you
insist you are their hero—
you are not mine,
but perhaps it is because i am
the female lestat;
i wish only salt in your wounds
not death but salt and salt and salt until
it breaks you and then perhaps more—
they say i’ve got to hide my crazy,
but let me put it on display;
and burn the whole town down when i take
you beneath the flames
and we’ll dance one last dance as i kick
your ashes to oblivion and you come face to face
with your bride:
death.
1 thought on “one last dance by Linda Crate”