Explicit Supper

A sip of shadow, cooled in the moon's own despair, A slice of silence, so rich, caught in a nightmare's snare. We dine on the edges of reality's seams, Tasting secrets and whispers, and forgotten dreams.

"Choose wisely," he murmurs, as he offers a dish, A platter of choices, each a perilous wish. For to sup with a demon, at this explicit meal, Is to bargain with fates, that only the brave will seal.