Lillith

 Her breasts bore not her silken lingerie,

Now scattered about the floor,

But the sanguine release of her lover,

 

Whom she would feel in the coming moments,

With one final gasp,

Softening inside of her.

 

Like the penetration

Of the lion’s tooth into the lamb,

She drove that dagger into his heart

While she rode him in her room, glowing and smelling of candles,

Dying their sheets a deep, fervent crimson.

 

An act of romance, an act of love

An impulse at the climax,

She couldn’t be controlled.

Phallus and seed

Could never sate the emotional lust of passion

Burning in her soul

 

As painting herself with the life from his chest could.

Riding, stroking, bucking, being penetrated,

Feeling the sweat fall with each raging thrust,

The vulnerability of his calloused hand around her throat

Could never bring him close enough for her.

 

And so, with an orgasmic battle cry

She committed the deed,

And rolled onto her back,

Rubbing the blood into her porcelain thighs

And stroking herself with her shaking hands,

Never to feel this intense pleasure again.

***

(Cuenca, Ecuador -- October, 2017)

Up until this point, the imagery in my poems had been a bit mundane. However, as I was living off of my small savings in Cuenca in October of 2017, I spent a lot of time watching horror movies. That helped me to get more graphic with my imagery, but I feel that in a lot of ways, I overshot things at times.