A Pome Wot I Wrote

[ismenin]

It is the beautiful boy's birthday. YaY! To mark this occasion, I am posting a pome wot I wrote a long time ago...round about C4 time, I expect. :D

It is nothing special, except that I like it.





Once

1. Dom

Only once I have prayed to hold you -
only once.
Tonight.
My arms ache like sorrow -
ache to hold you.
Sleep? What's that?
A memory.
Before I knew you, I slept.
Since I've known you - I dream,
And the dream is always the same.
You.

The dark watches of the night
bleed like black silk into my mind -
and all I can hear in the throbbing void
is your name surging
through my soul.
"Lighe!"

Heat pools in me, rises in me;
presses against my belly
in a hard, moist column.
Touch me. Touch me!
Oh, please!

The door opens.
I had forgotten the lock.
Silken skin presses against me,
winds around me,
meets my hardness
with its own.
My arms fly out like a snare
and capture - joy!

The urgent, uneven breath on my neck.
The nervous fingers on my body,
teasing hardness into madness.
The pressure of them, searching,
teasing, finding, probing.

I stop praying,
and start moaning.

Your heat on top of me,
in me, round me!
My moans became groans -
then shouts,
then screams!
God! -
We sang a duet
of love-sounds
into the flaming dark.

You in me, over me,
arms around me.
Your weight pressing on me
so soft, so strong.
Your body leaving my body -
empty, incomplete.
I yearn to re-unite them,
try, with mewling, urgent cries,
to push you back,
back where you belong.
In me.

Always in me.
Or around me.
Or I in you.
One. Always.
Always,
Engel -
Sehnsucht -
Du -
My love,
My angel,
My desire
is you.

Only once I prayed to hold you.
As you lie beside me,
damp and spent,
whispering
"God knows, I love you -
Sblom, I do!"
into my ear,
I know that prayers
can sometimes
be answered.
I do.


2. Lij


The night was warm, and moist.
So was I.
The sheets pungent
with the odor of longing.
My lonely bed a shrine
to your image -
locked behind my eyes.
The invitation I had
seen in yours, today,
scorched the back
of my skull like madness.

The heat under my hands
- my hands, not your hands -
threatened to consume me,
as they slid over my flesh.
Dom.
Sblom.
Oh, God!

My fingers,
moist with my expectations,
trembled.
No, your hands
needed to be on me.
Yours.

I rose from bed,
and came to your room.
You had forgotten the lock.
I opened it, and heard
a sigh, a rustle,
a moan - my name -
"Lighe!"

I climbed in beside you,
felt your trembling flesh
against my own.
Your arms encircled me,
drew me in to -
joy!

I breathed my longing
onto your neck,
my fingers learned your shape,
searching, shivering, shuddering
sliding into you.

I heard your moan.
It was the twin of mine.

I covered you,
came into you -
you were past sense,
past rational thought,
past everything,
except my name -
groaning, shouting, screaming!
God! -
How I loved you then,
my beautiful Dom!
Naked and unashamed!

Me inside you, pressing,
wanting, longing,
moving in love,
singing love
into the night.

I try to rise from you,
to move to your side,
to hold you.
Your fingers touch me,
try to stop me leaving -
your voice a sobbing breath
on my trembling mouth.
"No!"

My love,
My angel,
My desire is
you.

As I lie beside you
in the little death,
murmuring
"God knows, I love you -
Sblom, I do!"
into your hair - I know.

I have always prayed.
I know God loves me,
and loves you.
Tonight, as I feel
your tears on my lips,
I'm sure,
you know it, too.

I do.