she comes for Me
mellifluously,
floating upon My words of seduction
that caress and possess her,
wrapping her up quite prettily,
until she sighs in lilting tremolo
as the bow is tied
and the honey is tapped.
She strains to touch Me, feel Me, feel My touch,
and well I draw her to Me,
My nostrils searching for her,
the taste of her revived on My tongue,
the tips of Me stretching toward her…falling short,
lost in the loathsome frontier barrier between Us.
Slipping from the phantom’s embrace,
the night closes in as she is lawfully attended,
and then she turns her face away
to hide the rivulets of tears
that flow for Me,
for I am without
and not within her.
She wants to be All to Me,
give All to Me,
but the clinging responsibilities
have her in a choke hold,
so the pressure inside her builds…
she cuts herself
to release the disappointment,
to let flow away in crimson trickles her failure to Me;
but even in these saddest of streams
there is no washout,
for always
she flows into Me.
