He stalks in the night to me, whiskey on his lips.
Whiskey or scotch... I can never tell which.
His frame long and lean like a lost Grecian god.
His eyes flicking back and forth, studying my flaws.
His baritone voice cooing quotes of old poems.
Shakespeare Longfellow Hughes Frost Poe
He reaches out to me with eager, greedy hands.
Strong and rough; he's a helluva man.
Smoke fills the air as he exhales his words.
And the ashes burn as they fall to the floor.
He bites and he bruises in the sapphire dawn.
The tense of the clench with my mouth to his jaw.
"Tell me you love me. Say it again."
I whispered it softly, and he shouted, "Amen."