Charles Baudelaire - The Ghost
Like an angel, feral eyed,
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.
