She asked me for a cigarette
and I asked to see her tattoo-
a beautiful Woman on her back.
I light her up, and she's sleepy.
she takes me back to her apartment,
and we lie on her bed; the thick duvet
in psychedelic patterns.
Pillows filled with incense
she burns, and I gather the ashes
and paint pictures on her skin
while she sleeps
and the Woman on her back
winks at me.
Beside her I dream of that other Woman
She reaches out to me,
and I caress the Woman's cheek
on the shoulder blade of her back.

Rain falls outside and she doesn't ask him to stay
the door cracks open, closed, and she dreams about
the Woman on her back.
She feels Her trying to crawl out and dominate,
she feels Her eyes on him, and she knows
that he will be devoured.
She lures, She lures, with obsidian eyes
and a disarming smile
and addicting lies.
Oh, she knows he's fallen in love with her
and perhaps more, the Woman on her back.
That siren, that other half
who whispers in the night and makes him shiver.
He loves her, totally and completely
when he leaves, she thinks of their demise;
dust settling and foundations cracking
she wonders when he will leave her,
or if he ever will.
He's ensnared between her sighs, her pauses
of pledging fleeting love and youthful abundance
and Her.
Rain falls outside
and she doesn't ask him to stay
because she knows that he will come back-
they always do,
that's what She promises.