The door opened.
The door closed.
Arms open, grasping the wall
A thankful breath for survival
Fleeting bedroom route taken
Wandering towards her dresser
One by one earings separated
Body scrutinized in the mirror
Precarious eyes fall from witness
Craggy fingers skim about her neck
Tension felt to her toes
Shivers absolute over her body
His creation, she weakens
Leaning into him enduringly
His whispered presence declared:
You’re mine now, my stifled one
The merciless day is over…
Pins slowly removed
Curls allowed to be free
Cascading her curves
Gathering auburn ringlets
Spawns gentle smelling
A zipper stream composes
Her dress long forgotten
His tone used to rouse her:
Take off the passable mask
Come to me, my dark one
Turning through aphonic moaning
Delighted to see her dreaming one
She weeps:
Help me discount this cruel world, my love
Draw our bath
Combine two minds
Make me laugh
But, first, just lie back
Reminds me of my youth coming home to a sanctuary after meeting, battling and maybe winning over the wolves of the world.
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Exactly, John. Oh my word!! You nailed it. I can’t believe it. I had a rough day trying to change the world.
I am thrilled you got it.
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You wrote it and it yelled at me.
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I’m so glad you were listening.
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Brilliant Adrey!!
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Thank you, Willow. That means a lot!
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Very nice. I get the feeling love trumps all. 🙂
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It does, Duketh. You have a way of reading through the malburnit. 😉
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It was very beautifully and clearly put.
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Thank you. I wanted to write a story, but it came out like this instead. Not sure I have any control over my writing. 🙂
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This is so good, Audrey. I had chills…good ones. 😀
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Thanks so much!
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“Her dress long forgotten…”
That always seems to be the case……
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LOL I suppose so, Kenneth. You are focusing on one line… 🙂
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Paints a very clear and vivid picture. I felt rather sad for the girl because she didn’t seem to want to be there. Also the craggy fingers seem rather gross.
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Thanks. Maybe she does…craggy can be hard to interpret, I think. It does sound gross. Maybe it is gross.
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Makes me think of very bumpy and wrinkled hands that have been abused over the decades.
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Ooo, I can see that. A workers hands, even.
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