Hot tea pressed into the melting throat of a cold, cold night. Breath of vapors, bone thin ghost. I drink and, hand to hand, we touch. Heady hissing heat. So much to lay to rest, my sweet, so much to bed for the last, last time. My head is clearer than it’s ever been. Scorch like honey candle wax. A tug at the wrist and my knees drop as summer meadows bow beneath the moon. My heart a crimson cage, blossoms. Rich. Thick with roseblood soft as silk. He tastes me in my dark imaginings. He slides those hands upon me everywhere and I fall arched against his tousled sheets.
Out beyond the winter snow, descending heavy upon a distant hollow , the perfumed peace I once embodied long ago. Soft with graysoaked abandon. I dig my needy fingers in. To have been a thread I’d forgotten I pulled and I pulled with my milky kitten teeth. Wild huntress eyes, naive. At play and crouched, determined. Tiny tempt. Pitter patter paw print beats. Little savvy scratch-tongued thing. Claws at the back of my tenderest voice. My desire soars high on a splintered wing, far above the white wide sea. Icy, jagged. Illicit and deep.