The Art of Phoenix

She looked into my soul
with her empty smile
and kissed me with blood stained lips
dripping like ruby tears
and whispered
“I loath you for the way you make me feel”
her breath was cold as steel
steel stiller than her heart
in black and white
and death was her art

We stood inside a marble tomb
a place of death that was my womb
and her kiss made me fade into forever

the words she spoke like sperent daggers
a living statue from aeons past
and in the dark we would gather
and feast until the sun

And in daylight slept
I wept at the sweetness of her blood