The Blackness

I wear a crown
Of shining black thorns,
And revel in a gown
Of black bejewelled nights,
And in my hand, a sceptre bright
Holding the crescent moon alight -
I say, Love me. If you dare.
Or push me away. See if I care.
One hug will not suffice
This thirst you see in my eyes,
One push might kill all
But the one I hold aloft.
And this crescent moon will shine,
From the jaded sceptre I hold -
Lives of sorrow and regret,
For love is not to be told.