Hay personas que son como el otoño

Act I.

Whilst in a dream, the devil approached me.

He spoke the language of persuasion,

and whispered poems of damning elation.

His skin in disguise

was recast as a suit of satin scales.

He had olive pits that had me hypnotized,

and lips that tasted like opium.

He wrapped his arms around my shoulders

in a soothing demeanor,

and under the pretext of ambrosial intentions

lured me into his trap.

Locked in a intimate tango,

the lunar rhythm marked the transition.

Inebriated in his sway

I felt my consciousness disintegrate.

When I, the helpless varmint, awoke,

the morning was rough.

Unbeknownst to me

I had performed a sinful dance.

A perverse purpose loomed

in his mischievous smile,  

and venom dripped from his fangs

where pearls should have shone.

Oh, I should have known,

I should have run!

but he knew all the tricks

to be played with my mind.

A gentle hiss, a sweet shriek,

and we made a pact.

He must have thought:

“Forever she will be mine”.