So fine the filaments weaved from within.
You must login to vote
With timeless ease she begins to spin.
Gossamer strands so hard to see.
Should you stray too close you will never be free.
Of course you will struggle with all your might
But you will never, win this fight.
Many have tried without success.
She knows every move she knows best.
The ultimate huntress the weaver without a loom.
She will come to you soon my friend, soon.
For now she is content to watch you fade away.
Now you are hers, why rush this day?
Quid pro quo she gave so much of herself.
Now you succumb accept your fate.
It would seem, churlish not to wait.
But all things must have and end.
As the strands take her weight, they begin to bend.
You can feel the vibration as the tension increases.
She begins her promenade of death in inches.
Arachnoid clothed in widows black.
None could care more, in the final act.
Within this orb this wondrous web.
She softly holds you until you are dead.
Like all lovers she gives the final embrace.
Then she begins to taste.