A small sacrefice

A Poem by micky

She moved in his arms without hesitation...

he wrapped his blood drenched hands around her waist...

She caresses his face...

Looking...Spilling

Wanting...Needing

Every inch...Every millimeter

Of him...

She cares about nothing more than feeding the fire that he brings

They sway from wall to wall

His grip tightens around her...

Fingers so cold they could be wet

As her eyes move from his lips to his chest she notices...

the drop of wine on his shirt

She thinks of the intense red

But doesn't care

They sway left, right, back and again

round and round they go...

She breaths him in as she lays her head in the space of his neck

Thinking of the fire within...

Can she contain it anymore?

She takes in all of him

His smell, his touch, his blissful eyes are all that repeats in her mind

She open her eyes...

She looks to the floor as if for guidelines but instead...

finds a trail of ...

No it can't be! she thinks

She closes her eyes to take him in again

He gives her a twirl and their dance has come to an end

He leads her to the door of the empty ball room and says...

"Go on I'll meet you in the room"

She asks where will he be going?

He says"To the restroom"

She parts ways with him...

thinking...breathing

denial... self argument

She whispers...

"I suppose this is what I am willing to ignore for LOVE..."

She walks to the cheap hotel room

She gets undressed and tosses her (what was once a white dress) to the freshly lit fire...

"It's only a small sacrifice?" she says

© 2014 micky

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Reviews

alan peter kelly

An adult sense of sensuality...a slow freefall...a visceral swing into a dark red lusty liquid morph from two into one...caramelised...with no sugar coating and i see...in this...a phenomenal artist in the making....its the first of the few reads so far where i observe versatility and a maturity beyond your years...the paradox of a screaming whisper is inspired and inspirational...you have for the most part shown a great capacity in self editing. From experience..I've learned to understand what editors require when it comes to sometimes needing to be savage on my own work without compromising the integrity in a poem and its intention...i have learned sometimes to reveal each aspect of my mind in a simplicity of skeletal proportion which is somehow more polished and yes more appealing be thy skeleton...furthering the question: why use a big word when a diminutive one will suffice? lol hmmm...where was i? Im sure there's some wisdom in this monologue :).....and praise...and...maybe a crack at another featured review ;)