I am the moon that bleeds
In sacred Sleep, I am the blood
That holds the birth of gods.
I am the wound, the health,
The bloody witch , and the gates of Hell.
And between my red blood thighs
I weave the labyrinth to Paradise.
I cloaked my secret in a silent shawl,
Could not unweave the threads of lore.
But it is yet another tide, and my blood red hands
Must undress the robes of taboo.
Yes, I fed him the sacred nectar,
His greedy mouth drunk all desire
In grim whispers _ raw, reverent ,
All shades of taboo.
I watched him unwrap the myths,
Our moans made magic and the soft
Stutters from my throat were nothing tragic.
Moon Mother, forgive me.
But my bloody thighs
Cried out for more.
🦋