Still dark night

In the dream, the wind is shaking my tree and I feel my leaves coming loose.

I am bent by the elements until my muscles ache from the strain.
My heart pounds with the swift cadence of the storm-heavy raindrops on the sidewalk.
I seem to be seeking the still point tonight. The eye in my personal storm.

Startled in the midnight air, I waken to the sound of my own voice mid-gasp.
I am disoriented....excited....aware....alone....

Desire can be an ardently glorious bitch sometimes. When she dons her finest gown woven with the images of twining limbs and hands tangled in hair... her scent that of warm skin, salt and smoke....and her adornments the echos of sinews straining, hearts beating as one and the lingering sounds that a lover makes in the still dark night, that is when I love her, I hate her and I'm left wanting.

I was not prepared for this onslaught tonight. I thought I'd managed to tamp Desire down, like a campfire on a cool October night, only to be raised again when I put flame to tinder, but She will not be denied. She is not so easily tamed. Her flames lick at me, teasingly....demanding recognition. She is relentless, and I don't know where to turn.

©Tanya Anguita