Whimsy's Edge

A dance of shadow and peril

Whimsy can lead to peril; Image created by Liora Writes

By night she moves
in and out of shadow,
silver drips down—
moon high above.

Her smile so fair,
coyness her method;
how she inspires
notions of love.

Lips so luscious,
gardens are jealous;
eyes like the sky
after the rains.

Hair black as ravens,
lost in the tangles;
heart cold as winter—
I’m fallen again.

Her laugh a rhythm
of bells intertwined,
her moves a dance
of nomad taboo.

She winds around,
entrances those near—
be careful, you’ll find
your soul is tattooed.

There’s no escape
when she sings you her song;
you would not wish it,
even if it were true.

For she is goddess
of all that is wrong—
you’re now held tight
in her magnanimous view.

---

Author’s Note:

I wrote Whimsy’s Edge long before I began naming my shadows.
At the time, I let others see what they wanted to see — desire, danger, beauty. I wasn’t ready to explain that it was always about addiction.
Looking back, I can see how my writing already knew what I couldn’t yet say: how easily seduction becomes survival, how quickly survival becomes surrender.

—Liora

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