In my darkest fantasy,
I run wild and naked there
in the wicked garden
where all the trees are bare.
In this wicked place,
all my dreams come true,
my nightmares are released
and out of them came you.
I hear the command you give
on wickedly whispered breath
to be your willing victim
to gift you with my death.
My fear must be addicting,
my pain must be reprieve,
so you taste my tears
as in your arms I grieve.
Your touch is ever present
and so your kiss I use
and no apologies I give
for loving my dark muse.
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