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.
