Succubus

The moon was made as the devil's light.
The wolves are barely awake.
My breath hangs on the lilies
And even snakes don't dare to stray.

Now, I never claimed to trade in love
(For that would be a lie)
But perhaps, with my bouquet of thorns,
I could be your bride tonight.

Good evening. You're my puppet.
I'm tweaking your warm strings;
My fingernails draw pleasure.
Heaven trembles: God's watching.

Why, your smile suggests
That you're settling into Paradise!
I'm something else entirely
But the darkness hides the lies.