An immortal lives in a dying world,
Her face was sculpted from different molds,
Her hair—no one gets to know how long;
She cannot distinguish what’s right from wrong.
She lurks in the shadows waiting for fire;
It reminds her how pure’s this man she admires,
Yet oft she hides from him, a man of light,
And chases the dark with all of her might.
She’s used to the world not seeing her whole,
Mistaken for her sister, wife of Night.
Watching her lover, in fear hides her soul
That he’d hate her for her infamous bite.
Truth persists courting his lady in mask;
He sniffs her perfume of honey and spice.
She keeps her secrets hidden in a flask
But all he wants is to strip off her lies.
He sees all her tears, a can of ink spilled
And reads all her thoughts, how it’s gathering mold;
Suitors trapped her in a fortress of guilt
And sold her in portions for power and gold.
Her appearance changes wherefor she goes,
Most in the wild, she does not know her worth.
She sells his gifts in exchange for cheap clothes;
Sadly, he thought, ‘What a waste of good words.’
‘How long will you run from me, lady in mask?
You bask in the sun, so why should you hide?
Come away with me, let’s finish our task
You’re most lovely unveiled, here by my side.’