Our arachnid souls shall weave
A fortress of strong cobwebs
Shining like a prism in the morning
In the corner of life’s walls
Tumbling around in the making of
Defensive and sticky cocoons
Until we manage to collide

And Oh, what a collision it will be

Our silky strings will knot together
In ghost minutes I will make my way
Through the tangled labyrinth until
Blissful static courses from skin to skin
In a rough yet undeniable loving contact
Cocoons will join as one as we lay
Waiting for the spider to have it’s feast

 
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