Riches

Circling high above the grey
The Lily holds its secrets to its breast
This constant surge towards the forbidden
The lure, the pull towards the dark 
Nestled safely in the light of comfort
But wanting the tear and the rip
Craving, in the shadows of silence 
The blood and the rending

And every scarlet drop
Is my jewel

And behold, he bestows upon her
Riches
strange and redly gleaming