Once again I find myself craving
the arms of the betrayer.
The difficulty lies not in the
eye of the beholder but
in the sigh of the scolder.
No way to resist the
warmth of the embrace,
the denial of the soul,
the hot rum breath
on my neck
when he whispers things
he should not;
the pulse beating swiftly
in the neck, the arms,
the sweaty palms on
the small of my back;
the low, soft growl
of passionate animal instinct,
the spiced saliva that rests
on my stomach, chilling the
air even further.
It's been a while, any response is great...
Comments
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Obvious...good.
There is an aftertaste here, much like after downing a boch. I can almost taste the rum, taste this betrayal, smell the sweat and sin. Perhaps it is that I know too much about this particular piece. Anyways...Who is the betrayer? Perhaps not this person you speak of. Are you wanting to be in the arms of the betrayer, someone wholly different then your conuterpart here? What are you running from? Where are you running to? I should like to hope that the betrayal will not follow you, but...only time will tell.
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Gontains Good Forbidden Aspects
For some reason I like the line "The difficulty lies not in the eye of the beholder but in the sigh of the scolder." The piece is tinged with forboding and has a sense of forbidden and naughty behavior. I love that in a poem. I enjoy the words "low, soft growl" and "spiced saliva." The idea of seasoning someone's saliva makes me smile. I'm tempted to open up someone's mouth and start sprinkling Paprika inside. Thank you for spawning more random ideas inside my head.
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