Poem4

My Fourth Poem......

Flames In The Bedroom

Fire against my pillows.
A mane of tousled redness and golden spirals
against white linen.
Large green diamonds of eyes slowly blink.
My eyes longingly watch her,
as her mouth upturns into a white chocolate grin.
Her lips the colour of cherries,
and her teeth white chocolate.
Chocolate and cherries,
a good combination.

My eyes bon voyage down to her exposed hips,
the colour of milky coffee.
I take a breath from deep within me,
and dread fills my heart.
The same heart that is at war with my head.
It has been from the moment I met this surreal beauty.

I want to keep her,
I do not want to announce the dreaded news that I know by heart.
Committment,
though,
is not a word I keep within myself.

I must open my arms and let her go before I break her heart.
I am not vain,
it is a fact,
I have done it before and will do it again.

My lips part,
and I feel I am the trumpeter,
the one who delivers the bad news to the King;
his punishment was death.

I deliver the news and the smile drops,
dead,
from her lips.
No, no, I urge to her in my head,
keep that smile upon your lips!
Do not hate me,
for it is in my nature.

F***!
She screams and she is out of bed in a flash,
moving in a blurred flurry.
Fiery redness,
against milky skin and white linen.
White white linen,
flying across the room and flashes of skin here and there.

I lay still,
no more words utter from my lips.
I have said enough.

She turns to me and soars across the room,
claws out.
She is on me,
I am being attacked from all sides.
White pillows,
lashing golden red hair,
screaming from a cherry, chocolate mouth.
Long smooth coffee legs wrapped around me,
resisting my movement.
Although there is none,
I accept her fury with a stillness of my own.

She leaves soon after that,
wearing my half buttoned shirt and her rumpled skirt.
Keep it, I urge her in my head, do what you wish.
Be happy.

I survey my room,
surrounded in my bedding.
A scene of whiteness,
pureness,
snow.

Summer would come and I would be gone from her mind.
She would probably have a barbeque with her new friends and they would eat sausages coated in the remains of my shirt.
My shirt she burnt hoping the memory of me would leave with the rising smoke.

I prayed for her that it worked.
For tonight
I would find another,
and history would repeat itself.
I was a vulture,
and I would have my prey at any costs......

Natalie Bain

dhdruhtyu