What do you dream about, my sweet, when the moon is fat and the owls are calling and the righteous are sleeping and believe they are safe? What drifts through your thoughts when the wolves howl and the wind sighs and the night whispers promises and prophecies of darkness and death and decay?
Do you dream of the light? Of days long gone? Of jewel stained windows that arch to the heavens, spilling sun on the gold of chalice and paten and painting the altar with ruby and topaz and emerald and jet? Are you there, my love, so deep in your mind you can smell the incense and taste the staleness of the wafer and the sourness of the wine? Are you hypnotised by the chanting and the toll of the bell and the cloying, clutching claustrophobia of the confessional?
Such a sweet, sad girl. So innocent and trusting and pure. So ready to offer yourself as a bride to your God. Did you scrub yourself clean, preparing for sacrifice and blush when your fingers fluttered and paused over breasts and thighs ‘til the feel of coarse flannel tempered the fire of forbidden temptation? Did you pin up your hair and cloak it in white and prostrate yourself at the foot of his suffering and beg him for guidance? Did you tell him your dreams and your thoughts and the tangled wanderings in the depths of your heart and cry for forgiveness and help? Did you think he would hear you? Did you think he would listen? Did you think he would care?
Do you ever dream of a life without light? Can you see yourself there? Imagine the joy and freedom of laughter and lust as the knife slips deeper and the blood wells and a hot, pink tongue laps at the guilt and the pain and the fear. Are you there, my love? Take hold of my hand and I won’t let you fall. It’s only a step, such a small, sweet step of surrender, and the landing is as soft and seductive as silk. Let the darkness surround you and fill you; let it caress and entrance you; surrender yourself to its siren call.
So let down your hair for me and drape it with diamonds and let me gift you with ribbons and trinkets and treasures and treats. Dance for me, weep for me, sing for me, die for me, be my princess, my whore and my proudest creation. Together we’ll spin through the dark and make it our own.
Come with me, my love. Cast off your fears and confusion and doubt. Dance through the heavens and let the stars cry to you. They’re waiting to whisper and sing through your head. Tell me their secrets, write me a poem, paint me a picture of destruction and blood. Let down your hair, my sweet one, and kneel down and worship. I’ll be your God and confessor and lover and master. Dream for me, pretty, and hear the wolves howl.