Moonlight Sonata

Somewhere in a memory
a piano plays Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata...

The glass chandelier trembles
She flows down the spiral staircase
a ripple of a cape, the candle flickers
She lounges on the scarlet couch, waiting
Her body throbs, she does not smile.
A burning, slowly traces the arch of her neck
The flesh screams, her breath dies in her chest
Teeth graze the skin as a finger runs down her hip
She turns to look into the eyes of the demon,
Darker than night, transcendental as a phantom
Her velvet glove outlines the corner of his lip
The ring on her finger is not his, and so he smiles
A leap over the Victorian upholstery and she is trapped.

She should have escaped out the window
But the piano continues to play...so slowly...
As straps that held together cloth slip off like silk
And a coat once upright, now lying on the marble floor
Bodies and shadows and cushions shift and converge
Beethoven's masterpiece becomes her curse as she succumbs...
A gasp, a thrust, a heart unraveling, a promise broken.

The candle heaves, and then nothing but smoke.
And just as softly as he came, the demon dissipates
one last shallow breath is heard in the empty house
as the final note reverberates off the walls, the piano dies.