Poison and Her SistersMature

In the beginning, they'd call her Madame D'Aubigne, Danae after that, then 'my love', and soon they’d simply call, lips roaring, throats silent- their arms imitating dancers across a stage of curling flesh, grasping and tearing at their owners’ eyes to see, to watch! And she would, till the last futile stroke left their bodies exhausted. That this act of love; and that of death could be so linked, so similar, as her first (an accident!) had taught her- It consumed the Madame, and all who came near, it swam in her veins as theirs, like electricity, ice; like poison.

The End

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