Lingering at midnights, the skin’s hollow drum thrumming with tension tugging taut the skin in anticipation as black coil fingernails trace leys down the soft flesh of an inner forearm. First right, then left, setting lines burning like fireflies down to the fingertips.
Comes at winterkiss. “Are you ready,” said she. A nod with it begins, her kiss leaving every nerve burning alive.
A furtive nod, afraid the spell will break and longing for the neverending. Miraculously, there is only long vibrations humming through, a guitar string of tension bound under flesh.
All bells break, shatter the water’s razor edge and then begins a falling, a falling lingering a twilights all that remains is the skin’s hallow drumming while wondering at Elektra and if might this be that hunger she beheld.
11 responses to “At Winterkiss”
Wow. Echoes of very long ago felt in this. Thanks for sharing, Michael. 🙂
Thank you, Laura. 💙
Oh my, this is just so beautiful. So many gorgeous lines. My favorite being “afraid the spell will break and longing for the neverending. Miraculously, there is only long vibrations humming through, a guitar string of tension bound under flesh.” Wow!
Thank you, Jenn. I’m honored. 💙
You’re welcome. I hope you’re feeling better today 💙
Much better, thank you. If I can catch a better night’s sleep, I’ll be set.
I hope you can 🙂
Great imagery in this piece, Michael.
Thanks, Chris.
I wonder sometimes how something leaning more poetic prose would read in a longer form. Could it work? Or would it just be exhausting to read? I suspect the latter, even in the hands of a master — of which I am not. But I still ponder the question.
Probably works better in one’s own head as you have full context. Might connect though.
Perhaps. Seems better to keep it short.