He stands at the alter, one with the shadows.

She walks down the aisle, bathed in the light of a pure white dress.

Iridescent, his skin waned pale like moonlight,

enchanting you with his haunting beauty, the promise of secrets

on dark and cold nights.

The sun and all its bounty moved along her mahogany skin,

where the buds where free to flower and where leaves came to

grow, colour and fall.

She pushed the obsidian lock from his brooding brow and he noticed

now, how the gold of her hair moved with ruby wine

in the pall of his twilight.

His eyes shone red with the burn of loathing,

and decorated around her luminescent green eyes of life,

were crimson petals of passion and desire.

His lips were marred with destruction,

while her lips seemed drawn by the perfection of love.

On her finger he placed a sable serpent, that coiled,

crushed her delicate finger and sunk its teeth into her sweet flesh,

drawing youth from her waters. On his she placed a vine

that wound gently and dug its roots under his skin

to drink from his tainted stream.

In blood were they joined.

But, through kiss and the careful caress of their bodies onto the other,

they were one.





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