Yearn

Yearn

It was a story told with forked tongues

from the beginning;

He told her he loved her

and she loved him.

It was a white house

with tangled, wet sheets--

he was a stone statue, marble and hard inside

but soft to the touch of her silk-palms;

Flowers nestled at her feet

He said he loved her and she loved him,

and when he made love to her

he held her down,

a prisoner of her longing

she yearns...

The whispering moments when she felt God

a sunrise in her belly, out her wet opening

soaking his torso, her wooden idol--

Satin nights wrapped their silken arms around them,

lifting them into the mysteries;

and he said he loved her

and she loved him--

But when crashing seas washed away the temple

it started slowly,

tearing at the foundations

mutilating one stone at a time

patiently

until her love alone

could not sustain it.

(c) Trinity Wolf