BOUND
God that he was, physical touch was not necessity
Without touch, he knew the sweet honeyed kiss of her lips
Drifted wondrously within the ebb and flow of her heart
Caressed the depths hidden beneath her sleep-shuttered lids
She breathes; he knows love
Quest forsaken without regret
An arrow torn through willing flesh
His golden blood lay stain upon her pillow
She wakens; he sees love
She takes the wooden carcass, tosses it forgotten on the floor
Twin wounds in smaller palms match themselves to connect with his
Blood collides to dance with new intent
She sacrifices; he feels love
Lips crush
Hands taste
Skin moans
He, her Heart
She, his Soul
God and God alike
Touch borne not of necessity, but need
Your good Tammy. I really like this.
Thanks TJ! You are such a wonderful supporter! *cultlove*
Pointed here from an others site. Glad that I came. Your poem is amazing.
Wow, thanks so much Dave! And you taking the time to comment even, really apprecaite that!