The
Ghost by
Charles Baudelaire
Like an angel, feral eyed, Piercing to your sleeping
side, Gliding down with oily flight In the inwards of the night,
I shall give you, my dark one, Kisses frozen as the moon, Caresses
such as snakes give Slithering round the open grave. When the livid
daylights waken You will find my place forsaken, Icy till the evening's
here: As others might with tenderness Rule your life and your youngness
I shall rule you with a fear. | |