Her night of punishment on men has come to a close, and her lover stripped bare of his shame is to her, now but an unremembered dream.
The memories of her embrace so linger upon his tongue, and his silence holds. For although his wounds will heal, it is his endless howls which cut thru the ears of time, and roughly float above its gentle head.
Still, she will rest upon white winged angels, and to peaceful slumber fly. For her sins are distant as a fresh glowing star, the thoughts of her night are but shadows.
Her brutality goes unchecked, because men blinded by her flavour and beauty are befuddled and queer. Their flesh newly spawned with blood, feel not the blade till it leaves its ballied host.
-Johnny V.
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