She and He

I wait for him in the air
holding my breath
for a glimpse of his radiant light.

She waits for me
and I know she will
ease my black emptiness.


And there at last he is,
beckoning to me to “Come.”


She comes to me
like a tempest
on a still raven night
pulling me into her whirlwind
I need nothing more
than her.


I go to him
seeking his brilliant star
Swirling my tongue in anticipation
I give him that which he seeks
and longs for- ME.
Laid bare before him
white skin on black sheets.


She flows over, under and around me
I drink her essence I hunger for her flesh,
I surrender myself only
when Le Petit Mort
takes her.


He is mine, all mine as I die for him.


©2018 Linda Lee Lyberg



13 Comments on “She and He

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