Eyes and hair like crushed violets, lips of white rose-- the forest thorns part for their princess.
Princess of the dark quiet, of the deathly glens, of the gloam.
A tiara of silver for her grace, and a thick collar shows her place.
A servant of the moon, of the spiders, of the goddess below.
A cross to mark her for the god of blood. An iron lily for the virgin--
or to mark a trouble-maker.
Ruffles and leather, ribbons and chains. Eternity in her breath, and in the blood in her veins.
The sunlight dances through leaves and wind to find her pale hand, and touch, as a lover, this tomb of a woman.
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