Tiny Dancer

A thousand times I could die
Waiting for your love.
A wailing heart brings forth a song,
Of melancholy and mourning
For a love that only exists inside a box.
Unlatching, a tiny dancer turns
In melodic perfection, a pirouette of desire
What goes around, comes around, as they say.
She turns, again and again,
Always facing herself in the end.
Perfect imperfections splattered on a soul,
She’s there, at the tip of a tongue…
Little. Love. Lust. Lilith. Linger…
Never will her step falter,
For her puppeteer knows no other melody,
Save that of forgiveness and sorrow.
Alone, she turns, again and again,
Facing only but herself in the end.

© 2019 Lilith Ember All Rights Reserved

Love Nest

Aloft in the nook of her window,
The cat-shaped musings dance eerily on the walls
Feline representations of lust and love
Heeere, pussy, pussy, pussy…
A slight flick of the wrist, a twist of the waist
A kiss blown beyond the cheek, into the loins
A bend and snap, or the pull of a glove
Sway dears, again and again, those hips
Make the succubus green with envy
As she eagerly watches the passersby,
Thighs aching, wings waning, heart pounding
She craves the undying soul of her lover,
Inhaling every scent, tasting every sweetness
Forgetting the misfortune of the chaste
In the dimly lit hall of eros, she calls home.

© 2019 Lilith Ember All Rights Reserved