Leanan’s Lure

With all my lithe linguistics I am still struck dumb, unable to describe this possession of mind and body where I am balanced on the thinnest cold steel blade.  Severed from reality to roam free yet bound like quarks; we know fulfillment and hunger at the same time.

The sight of you stimulates like cold fingertips on warm skin, urging my cells to wake up and pay heed, and they do.  Blood rushes like spring rivers engorged by the melting snow of faraway peaks to flood my ceiling skin, colouring me from the inside out as it surges mutinous, just to know a moment on your lips.

Beads of intent swell on your skin, run in rivulets that beg my eyes to follow, mapping my desire; anticipation sitting sweet on lips and limbs as I am pinioned by the spinning magneto of our polarities.  I pull in close behind you and slipped my arm around to take measure of your need. Can you feel my warmth against your back, my mouth to your ear as I whisper…

I…

Will….

Have….

You…

Ever the intrepid explorer I course over your terrain taking in your peaks and valleys. My river tongue traces paths along slopes and tumbles onto flat rock skin.  I tease the trembling earth in cool licks and torrents to release its fortune, hidden treasures reward my tenacious tongue. I employ deft skills to loose lips and open that throat in a mighty groan as need is ripped from its mooring. Set adrift, I whip your hunger as a storm, pull you to peaks so thin you gasp in the airless stratosphere. Here, I breathe for you, inflating lungs in sharp pull punches that fight your bones for expansion.

My water longs to find the source of your expulsion, to be vaporized to tumultuous steam, sent skyward as a cloud by the heat of your need. There I’ll gather myself in droplets to rain back what you created, caught in exquisite cycling of our lift and fall.

I live and die in rhythmic pulsing inhaled and exhaled at your whim, a thousand near-miss collisions and expulsions rip my senses from reason.  The dark space between us crackles with expectancy, lightning perched on clouds yet to release, but aching to do so.

Here, I am a held breath, a whisper on your lips, waiting to be screamed.

You play me as a drum skin, pulled tight and taught, expanding the depth of every pulsing beat til need flows in cacophonous thunder, echoing of my walls with no abating gait but steady climbing crescendos to deafen our senses and leaving skin to sing of sensational pain.  I can smell it call to my tongue as it paints my name in crimson flourish beneath my nails.

I ride the crest of your longing, feel you cleaved in my core as though my body could consume you. I speak to you in furtive whispers, tongued calligraphy drawn on your own whilst lips decipher deeper meaning.

Our bodies blend in deep communion, drawing dark and light in fierce detail, page after page of savage love scribed by a bottomless breath, bound in the leather of our body – singular; spines arched to breaking and pages dog-eared by repeating rewrites of Leanan’s lure.

©All original work copyright Maggie Lawson 2018

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