Her lies are tainted with flecks of gold, her voice as hollow as the armor of a defeated knight. He hears only lyrical truth, and honey scented words.
Her touch grizzled and calloused, her eyes dark, empty, and obscure. He sees green pools of delight, and feels the roll of silk upon his flesh.
For men far and wide know of her deception, yet powerless to reject her wiles. She can bring only pain and heartache, but still they seek her spirit.
They know the pain will be monstrous. Yet frozen and stifled are they all from retreat. So onward to heartache they march.
-Johnny V.
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