it was the thirteenth time
(she was counting)
when she heard his voice,
somewhere from far away,
but still close, too close
(as if whispering in her ears)
.
she had devoured him,
tasted his blood and drank it all,
seven pints of it and
left his flesh to rot away,
or be the subject of a vulture’s dream,
she had gotten rid of him,
(that was what she believed)
but still she could hear his voice,
.
as it was when she slaughtered him
to bits, seventeen pieces that stood apart,
torn away from the lifeless dummy,
she had snarled as she chewed down
his three eyes that once saw beyond
and sucked his lips that once kissed,
.
she still heard his voice as it was
when she punctured his artery
and drank his life away, as it was
when he thrashed in her feathery arms,
struggled but then relaxed,
accepting what was to come,
lusty for her to take it away,
the poison that was left of him,
.
she still heard his voice,
as he looked within her,
he penetrated her soul,
with those dead eyes that saw
but never saw again,
.
she still felt his voice
tingle her back, (he was there),
she felt him within her bones,
his life flowing in her vessels,
she was the body he had,
.
she wanted him as prey and had him,
(and believed that he was hers)
but it changed when he came to rule
over her, it was his voice
beckoning her to do what he desired,
it was his eyes that had come alive,
and looked through her,
and those lips she had fed on
were there speaking back to her,
his voice that emerged from within her,
he was there, (always been there),
he had become her soul-mate
*For dVerse Poetics. I took a slightly different approach and wrote a dark poem with certain ominous numbers.
HA's Place 