One love dies.

Natural born,
moving in the wild,
dressed to impress,
She’s nobody’s child.
Just stockings and heels
amidst the trees.
He peers and smiles
watching Her tease.
Dancing through bracken,
swaying Her hips.
She approaches slow
then kisses his lips.

His heart pumps,
starts to race.
She grasps his hair,
strokes his face.
He takes the kiss
responds in kind.
Her stay is fleeting
but he doesn’t mind.

At the base of the tree,
securely bound,
He sighs, contented,
then lays on the ground.
Her wish is his pleasure,
Her pleasure, his pain.
He has love;
She has disdain.
He waits for Her,
and another day dawns,
His body objects,
complains and warns.
faint and thin,
live or die,
no more than Her whim.

3 thoughts on “One love dies.

  1. Thank you Grace. I wasn’t sure if this one made as much sense as I intended (tired when I wrote it and still tired when I posted it!) I hoped it worked, thanks for allaying my fears. x


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