Kiss of Death

Sometimes I dream of her
walking me through the darkest of nights
like a guardian of sorts
radiating with desire.
Her gentle hand
soft to the touch but vibrant when I feel
enters into my heart to clasp my soul
like a key
opening the door to the damned.
Without fear she looks into my eyes
and without regret she holds me
as I tear my world apart
like a warlord if you will
ready to slaughter entire nations
but loses the battle
to a simple kiss
from a not so simple maiden.
Dark and clouded she is
yet she pulses with love and ambition
lighting up everything around her
making even the foulest of fools
seem like loyal subjects.
To have her
is not only to have a love
but the very kiss of death itself.