ManicWorld Magazine

The memories will plant demons in their thrones
in the corners of his mind…
and he will dream.
As the bright morning light
crashes through the still dark night…
he will tremble.

As cracked scars –
scars of hard years,
that sting with the salt of tears –
allow the softness of her whispering breath
to shake the battle-worn armor guarding his intimacy…
he will tremble.

As the sparkle of her gaze longingly seeks
but only reflects the stained pain
in the bottomless blue
of the crashing waves of his eyes…
he will tremble.

As she blows grains of sand
from a sensual hand and it rips away
at his tattered and torn and tattooed and tired flesh
exposing a clean slate of solid resolve…
he will tremble.

As her strong finger slips
from his cracked and parched lips –
lips that hold back
raging screams from torments past –
she will brush away and crush every curse
against the shore of her strength…
and she will not tremble.

Now, as she lays her eyes
upon the exquisite work of her passion,
as he lays trembling scared in the nakedness
of his soul before her,
he will fall silently asleep…
and he will not dream.