Cry From the Abyss

My dark Lord, My desire for the taste of your skin
Chains me to you,
Dragging me ever deeper into your nether realms.
I stand here watching against my will, As your glance becomes the only sunlight my flesh can bear.
I sit here watching, waiting,
Trading slices of my spirit for the passing thought that
One night you will come to claim my body.
Upon a cold, metal slab I lie, searching with eyes closed,
For clues on how to quench the fire that pumps inside my veins.
My Dark Lord,
I know better than to approach too closely.
There are many eyes aflame within this misty void.
Those who would keep me from you line the watchtowers
As I scurry, frenzied, at the rim of the glow of their torches and bonfires.
I remain here, just surviving, On the border of your existence.
I remain here, just surviving, On the border of your existence.
How I long to feel your blood filled fingertips pressed against my face and palms.
My Dark Lord, come to my side, come to my slab.
Your night becomes my day,
Your emptiness becomes my completeness,
Your shadow becomes the only light I need.

Michele Dutcher lives in a carriage house in the Victorian Section of Louisville KY with two evil cats and a very good English spaniel dog. She has been published many times in Science Fiction ezines.
Website link for Entry to All Things Dutcher: www.bottomdwellers.freewebspace.com 

Find more by Michele Dutcher in the Author Index.

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