I open the book of memory. I draw the shielding circle in wine. I whisper the chant and hold my humble talisman of glass and twine.
Long hath been the days since last this shard strewn road I’ve walked. Longer still since my heart grew bold and you and I talked.
Trembling, the aethers give up their grace. I look within my shadowed mirror and I see once more your starlit face. Not a day has passed. For you time has lost its pace.
What promises have fallen from your ruby lips since last they touched to mine? What ways have walked your scuffed up boots that you liked so well, on the road to heaven or the road to hell?
Succubus mine, I still bear your mark. The scars upon my back. The cut you put upon my soul. I cannot heal, I cannot forget. Time and time and repeat. I return to your ritual and to my calling spell.
I cannot hold not kindle you, you are not for the likes of men. Yet oft I gaze upon you down there bound in your pearled pen. An angel’s face you wear but I see the spark hidden, that fleeting demon’s stare.
I conjure in the flicking light and call your image to my sight. Silken skin and hair so snowbound struck, golden bright. Your ears still many times silvershot, in lies, true beauty in you was begot.
Ward me now oh gods, my weak heart it pines. Return me from here. Let me find again my strength and away from past and bygone times.
I see my spell it fades, gods mercy granted for my sake. I shall not conjure the again! A lie I know even as I speak.
You still hold my heart. To my shame that tis so weak.