Regret is a Storm Word

I will tell myself later, much later
that nothing else matters
I as lay here, with the feel of you inside me
the stroke of you
your length running
its course inside folds
of hot pink skin
my head swinging side to side
moans escape
like steam bursting from a locomotive

I will tell myself later
only later, much later
that there is no such thing as regret
legs wrapped around your buttocks
thigh muscles clamping you tight
naked from the waist down
no time for shedding clothes
only clarity and the need to have this
forever and ever
like a full moon traveling a thousand miles
of night sky

I will tell myself later
so, so much later
that regret is just some six letter word
as I lose the ability to count off
the ticking time bomb inside me
my feet off the ground
swung around, in a drowning sound
of redundant ecstasy
below you and above you.
Left, as I always am
like smoking ash to your flame
a history lesson of
electric screws, hail marys, and you.

I will tell myself later
like tomorrow, the next, or the next
that I can breathe in great gulps of watercolor air
without you
as you suck the sweat from the back of my neck
your tongue of metal silk
a stiletto dagger of lust
of sex, and sex, and more sex
blossoming into something that must fuck me
like a brawling boot
getting kicked in the dark alley of you

I will tell myself at some other time
not now, or then, or later
that to not have you is worse
then not having you any way at all
So I scream to be taken
remade into a liquid you can
pour in and out of
reforming, as you will, my wet body
with every mad
hot
dark
fuck

You are a vampire
golden rimmed with cream and honey
and musk
peeling my skin away in layers
licking away the wounds waiting to blister beneath.
I am a door you blew open
blew wide, all without breaking stride
disintegrating in tiny measures
every
single
time
you
are
inside
me
Not caring one wit
not thinking at all
as you pull me close
heavy-lidded and craving another and another and another
wild orbital swing
at the center of you.

Your body is like a momentary death knoll in my ear
releasing my mind
leaping its goodbye
spawning bullets of breathing
invisible burns of friction
pelting my flesh.
I am the thing you hunted
the thing you caught
a demarcation on your map of conquest.
And the harpoon?
the hard one born of your strength and sweat and smell
embedded itself in the center of my organ-fed heart
So that as I lay there flapping out another fresh death
skin rippling out my bodies latest toll
I bend away
shore up each piece of splitting flesh
and in the midst of that perfect
cocktail of pain
stand up
camouflage the song thumping in my breast
look up at the sky
away from your power
and pray
for forever
and forever
and
forever after.

(c) 2008 mstrace

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Tags:

blister, fuck, full_moon, harpoon, lust, metal, regret, sex, silk, vampire and wounds