the room is hung low, for a tall man
lit amber in one corner
dim in the billowing sweet resin of frankincense
absorbed by fragrant silks
she has beckoned him, he has come
and they are sweating the sheets
rocking to the music of souls
laboring loins and sins of the flesh
she has confessed all but her darkest demons
as they grind and claw their way to absolution
and in this light he finds her perfect
he worships all he believes her to be
hoping that he can be master of her heart
eyes search eyes but the vision bounces back
hope reaches out in a whisper
love rises to a vapor that desperate hands can never hold
in the end, she rolls away
tightly gripping her emotions
because she knows that two lost souls
don't always make a whole
and as he curves to her spine,
kissing her neck with soft words
her head calculates the theory and says, "so close"...........
copyright Tawnya K 2009