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Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Romance/Love · #731047
Playing along with the slammers, though I'm officially eliminated...Round 2, Finales.
There are times when I am so inclined to leave
I form the words with tongue and lips…to no avail,
for sudden on the air your scent is evening inescapable;
your presence, stars, splayed light upon a sculpture
shaped by hands and molded tenderly from birth to kiln.

I become attuned to stunning truths, rare and raw within,
mammal and inherent inside my very center.

There are moments when I am but one breath away
from vocalizing protest, but then I’m up against the wall
and we are diving deep, inundated by irresistible pulls,
fluent in a language only we will ever speak or know,
tearing into common lust -- voracious wolves on easy victims.

We are satisfied by hunts fulfilled, slashing flesh from bone
to sink our sharpened teeth into delicious kills.

There are places where I go when we've consumed our fill
to digest definitions: I am lover, mockingly unloved,
willed by yearning; you are temptation, risen inflexible,
running lengths of miles, muscled, ready in the wilderness
to light slim candles timed perfectly for my ritual arrival.

Your motivation's something alpha-male, leading packs along,
crouched anew with everything it ever took to trap unwitting prey.

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