Mirror bound, this shadow and I
For once my desire sees eye to eye
Distracting sharp edges and rough play
Searching for that biting darkness I used to crave
On wicked things my heart takes a tumble
Head over heels for salt worn stubble
I just can't shake this ache for fire, for flame
When I taste that razor edge and only get blame
Deep down inside I still feel your grit
Wave after wave, pounding away at it
What I would not give for your finger tips
Drinking full, drinking deep from regretful lips
Plunder. Pillage. Take it all.
If only to leave me panting and raw

Sifting through each little grain
As though sand
Leaving a trail back to reality

Painted toes, the color of ripe eggplants
Flutter and kick around as giggles bubble the rim of my hard edges
Days gone by in silence, broken now by mirth
Drunk on a spring afternoon's nectar
I catch the sparkle in your eye, knowing
What comes next will have me breathless, wanting
"Please" whispered softly as giggles fade to sighs
You love it when I beg
I need this, you, here in the sunshine
Gilded fingertips tracing my tarnish
Chasing away the darkness with the promise of warmth

I find that quiet place between deep black and soft gray
Just as easy as I always have
My mind wanders
The faint outline of not too far off mountains
Calls to a wild place within the marrow of tired bones
Songs of burnt leaves, bare trees and wet things echo in response
3am cobwebbed by mid-December frost
Reminds me of another place and time
When sand instead of snow stretched out before me

I have been given such little time here
Seems to me that in that space a hand of sorrow dealt
Widowed at twenty seven
A once purring friend who was nineteen years mine
Now ashes next to those of Jeremiah
Tears fall down swollen cheeks weary of the weeping
More reasons for choosing not to propagate compile
Old newspapers with new headlines I cannot help but read
My bed is less now, my pillow too big
I am still asking questions about the why and how
Where this leaves me- partly in the past and the hollow now
Two urns I carry with me while I wander through the crowd
Two urns I carry with me unto my final hour

Each spot and speckle
Each stripe and freckle
I hold near and dear
A vegan heart with garden farts
It's silly, or so I hear

A strangle hold of memory
Deep roots in rich soil have traveled time and distance
To make fallow fields fruitful once more
An outline of your smile waxes fully in my vision
Weathered fingertips brush gently the dusted edges of dried petals
I can still smell you here among the shadows of winter
Of all the seasons to leave me breathless the cold shell of February
Lends a poetic air to your loss
I'll keep writing of my sorrow, my tenderness
For you will always have a place in my garden
Even if I let it grow wild with weeds and whispers

I smell like ***
Air heavy with the palpable heat of I-Cannot-Sleep arousal
Why do you have to be so delicious?
You gorgeous, bearded, mind fogging  *******
I rage at you from miles away
Crackling edges of my ire willing you to wake
The wet, slippery heat of my core begging for you to take a taste
To give relief
Strung so tight you could play me without tuning
Your deft fingers ringing such sweet melodies
In the soft silence that is all I have for a caress
My self-rung sighs speak volumes

It was in that one second between her falling down and getting up that she made the decision to never let herself get that low again.

Bruises vivid in her pale skin.
Blood actively pouring from her nose every other day.
Anxiety and fear running through her veins around every turn.

Fairytales never show you what happens after the honeymoon phase.
They don't show you what happens when the prince lets go of his cool composure and just wants to beat the **** out of you.

He didn't need alcohol.
He didn't need drugs.
He liked the adrenaline he likes the feeling of prey and predator.

In between that one second of falling down and getting back up she made the best decision of her life.

To switch the roles of predator & prey.