dark angel

she has a flare
for madness, a way
of looking at life
strangely. she's an
electric eel, a medusa
riding a winged horse,
a dark angel. she wants
to take you with her,
but you refuse to go.
it might be fun for
an hour, or two,
but then you'll have
to gnaw yourself
free from the leather
straps of love
she ties you to. how
sweetly though, she
sings, this woman,
with dark eyes,
silk skin, stirring
under a full moon
her witches brew.