Shadows in the Candle Light
The candle burned
just beyond her reach.
Dripping
to scar her bare feet
as she followed it
down
through the darker vaults
of a chapel
built in her favor.
Here she rules.
Queen of a forgotten night.
Colder
than the ghostly saints
she summons
with a wink and a kiss.
But in the thirteenth hour
she is confined
by the fickle light of death.
Ever immune
to the soft whisper of her lips.
And the sharp bite of her hands.