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by Heather Ward

My Lady, she dances in moments
of scarlet ivory. When the day
fades to midnight and the
Moon is queen of the heavens,
My Lady appears.

darkness is her ballroom; every
night a new partner becomes
her shadow. And she rests in a
scream of sunlight.

True red is the colour
of her laughter, and true red
the colour of her lips. When she
kisses her eyes are silver and
she is sated; gluttonous.

My Lady, she
danced in moments of scarlet
ivory. Her hair was the colour
of the ebony which pierced her, and
of the ashes I hold in my hand.

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