tea still steaming
even in the presence of moonlight
and billowing curtains,
the house still for certain
and the blankets mesh and swallow,

making her formless, harmless against
the night that hovered outside her window
the stars were shy to show
for the grounds caked in snow,


until it’s split with the distant
sound of trumping, slow and steady
she raises from her pillow,
senses unsteady,

the silence whimpers
until it’s snuffed out by patters,
and a frigid clatter from the depth of downstairs

sinking into the throat of the hallway,
she flicked the teeth,
peering down into the dusk
to where the front door hid,


until a shadow loomed and zoomed,
knuckles crackling,
boots stepping softly,

eyes staring at what crept
from the dining room

he scented her,
his head turned as if knowing

gasping and spinning
with the sky sweetly snowing,
she charged from an untimely doom

and he surged the carpeted planks
to flank with an overbearing stature,
he reached for her but faltered
along a trippy heirloom rug,
yet, managing a tug
on the skimpy maroon love shrug,
sending her skipping and tripping,
scattering towards
the game room’s sliding doors,
angrily he called
come here and nothing more

she yipped when she slipped
on cardboard chips,
then she was in his grip,
entangled in arms thick
enough to carve internal harm,
she screamed, searing song
slapped away by a sweaty palm

she cried into him,
he breathed into her ear
a desperate grunt…

hauled to a captive’s quarters,
shut up
warned of a harsher order
but still fighting to flail
she bucks and butts his brow

she’s thrown with a growl,
prowled and pulled by her hips,
arm in the back
of the crick
of her neck,
face flustered
in the folds of flowered sheets
she hears him unbuckling,
she feels her fight buckle,
his hand plants
she stares at his knuckle
you wanted this
his breathe struggles

and he enters,
no detours
straight to her core
she shuns her eyes,
baring tongue to the stuffy sky,

he leans in,
chin to shoulder,
holding her tighter
against him,
ah… Gwen…

he holds her,
handles her,

she moans
against his groan,

…you’re so good to me

– B. Brown

(image by Manuluvsmanu)

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