It used to be…
where His deepest most sensual penetration
was the slow slide into her mind.
An appetizing aphrodisiac
of his poet’s prose, to
beguile behind
a wordy veil
to blind & bind
her body & mind.
But now...
the
silence between them
frosts ripe fruit on a vine,
as a cold curtain falls on dawn
to never unfold after dusk is drawn.
Where the locked gate remains shut
& the rattle of the chain stands still,
to leave a hole that never fills
the same again…
Rural Romantic Ramblings 
This is so powerful and sad Mel – the contrast between the two halves is stark and relatable. Some beautiful and very clever lines – the one suggesting silence frosts fruit on the vine was my pick. Excellent stuff.
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Wow – thanks Nik. Your feedback and support is amazing and appreciated. 🙏
I’m paying you, right? 😜
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Haha! Never fear my friend I would say the same things for free (but the continuation of our reciprocal comment and support arrangement can happily stay in place!). Seriously – it’s a pleasure reading and commenting on your work
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