illusions
in obscure
disorder
there she suffers an obvious invasion
seduction is ultimately an ambush
like the devil owns
the sinners deal
like refugees retreat
running from the powerful
far inside her
trembling
like fruit withering on the vine
hasten the light
alternatively, she may turn to dust
too far to be a dying star
shadow echoes imitate the empty
they ricochet into you
and relentlessly rip the kiss from your lips
trying not to think of it,
she didn't see him anywhere
enshrouding herself in a shell
penetrated by languishing
there she clings to anguish
religions obsess with the need for confession
celebrate with a celibate or live with condemnation
like a sinner caught with secrets to suppress
afraid to fly waiting seeing through stone dead eyes