Ten Years Until Forever

Your face floods back to me,
surely as tide's moon-soaked fingers tear rhythmically at
rock.
This reminiscence, (Tinted still with roses)
is draped in the fog that settles, obscures,
Ten years down the road.

The First Time, Intercourse, Making Love,
The Grand Fuck.
Words that seem meager, upon reflection,
to conjure all the sorcery of shared sinew,
and the blessed, sanguine fluid that washed me clean.

Golden hair poured, soft as sand,
Quickly filling each flushed curve of my neck.
I begged to be buried alive, and the hourglass turned,
moved with the strength of a sigh.
As Crimson-bit lips rested at softly-closed lids,
Thin as parchment, the blood surfaced,
Teeth teased the skin, and it begged for a bite.

Catching a glimpse beyond the other side of the glass,
Trees posed in gnarled, sooty shadows,
twisted tight as twine.
Straining like Atlas,
They upheld the fullness of the moon.

That night, firmly set in fall,
We became wet as mist,
falling through the peaceful black.
Kissing terra's blanket of cool, brown loam.
That night, filled with sensory song.
Never far from that melody,
I can still hum most of the notes.
Though they often emerge cloaked in a banshee's moan.

Memory of this, where it began and I became,
honed and sharp.
The beguiling blade it is, polished and luminous,
beckons to cut, even still.
Ten years down the road.
 

About the Authoress:
 

Lisa lives in Dublin, OH with an amazing man and two precocious kitties.  When she isn't writing or reading, you can usually find Lisa at her Dojeng studying the ancient art of Tae Kwon Do, or stirring up trouble in the kitchen.