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

4 Responses to Bound

  1. T. James says:

    Your good Tammy. I really like this. 🙂

  2. Dave says:

    Pointed here from an others site. Glad that I came. Your poem is amazing.

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