#spare

100 words for Wank Wendesday. –M


Here faithfully when hunger will not spare you even in sleep,
manifest essence of pure desire.

I descend
to the nimbus,
kirlian aura,
just above your skin, raising the small hairs,
making gooseflesh, though it is warm here.

Like static I hiss into your ear, and, slowly, you shift,
sigh,
part,
well.

For want.
For me.

You’ll be ready for when I plunge;
invasive, primal urgency, saving nothing.

I need you to be, so that you come around me before you wake, and I dispell.
You’ll feel me still, the fading ozone scent marking my passage,
like a departed thunderstorm.

Latest Comments

  1. Lady Grinning Soul says:

    I had to come back and read again. *sighs* I don’t know whether I’m overcome with envy at your skill with words here, or whether I’m just incredibly grateful this is out in the world. Either way… it’s beautiful.

  2. erikamoran says:

    The kirlian image was a delightful addition to poetry that wakens other memories. Nice

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