Twisted Desire

Her laughter, playful, amusing as a babbling brook in sunny spring;
Her smile, soft and promising as the sky before a gentle summer rain;
Her temper, changing, colorful as the leaves finding their hue in autumn;
Her posture, suggestive of deeply rooted seductive strength, solid as ice in winter;

She decorated his days as no other before her.
She infiltrated his thoughts in spite of time, in spite of distance.
She fascinated. She infatuated. She infuriated.
She pleased him as honey pleases the tongue.

His soul, nurturing his passions as a mother nurtures her young;
His mind, enslaved by intrusions welcomed as the morning begs the sun;
His heart, the master of illusion, as is Narcissus as he stares into the pool;
His dark delight grown wild in deepest night as the hungry jackal without prey;

He had to have her, but refused to plead her hand.
He must possess her, yet own her he would not.
He burned. He languished. He smoldered.
He forced her as winds force the storm,
Pinned her beneath the purple linen
Befitting the virgin daughter of a king.

She, used carelessly and tossed aside, as the bowl that held the soup.
He, placated only briefly, as the hog fed but an ounce of grain.
She, puzzled, a flash of anger in eyes as translucent shimmering glass.
He, lay breathless and confused, a hint of pain upon his chiseled brow.

She, her rage replaced by tears in glistening rivulets ran down golden plain.
He, his hurt replaced by hardened stone held fast within his bronzed jaw.
She, tears trailing the valley where her heart throbbed, coming to rest between ravaged breasts.
He, princely face set in grim determination to forget.

Copyright 2015. L.L. Shelton.

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