What Are You?

"What are you?" Said she with the long fair hair

That rest on her back and begged to be grabbed.

Her smile a mystery of tender care that

You see only the second before stabbed.

"Me?" an enigma of power and dread

Who begs the favor of your grace and splendor.

From doorway to foyer until the bed,

To what imagination may render.

But what is she? Pray! Is she an angel?

And if she is would I then be her god?

For it is together that we are able

to create heaven with marks on backs clawed.

In the blink of an eye, we dissipate;

Winding together the tails of our fate.