The voice calling me from the dark Is quiet Sensuous Its melody thrums through my bones and tongue And curls, purring in my heart Like wine it flushes my cheek with uninhibited warmth It calls me to action Reckless self endangering action Not all voices from the dark are kind. This one glows like a black sun. Biting back the fear of warmth and contact In my touch starved living canvas The voice has teeth Teeth that set in my spine and inject courage into my marrow That scrape ever so slightly down my neck In wanton display Of seductive darkness. Its call is haunting Sleepworn it sends me running Through a silver forest of dusky light Upon an unbroken path Marked only by whispers that linger in Its wake. I know not what I’m following I know its power and magnitude brings summer to my throat and winter to my veins Spring blooming warm upon my cheeks along the shivering pines That voice of silk sheets and twisted limbs A weight in the chest like a secondary heart’s phantom thumping Throbbing its call of life back to that voice in the dark Inviting it in for a taste.