by Nick Gisburne
They say she is the Whisper in the Frost
A succubus behind a frozen veil
She lures the ghosts of angels who have crossed
And hurls them down from Heaven with her tail
The dreams of men are deep before the dawn
At night she takes her pleasure from their skin
Forever to her whispers they are drawn
Forever are their souls consumed by sin
But death is swift for those who hear her speak
For they shall know the whisper of her name
The body, drained of passion, barren, bleak
The heart, forever frozen, stained by shame
With every stolen dream there comes a cost
No soul survives the Whisper in the Frost
