I lie next to her, her form is a highway of flesh,
Hollows and hills, traveled for many a mile,
I caress her face, run my finger down her cheek,
Every time I take this trip, I never cease to break a smile.
Her lovely blond locks, like tresses of liquid gold,
I run my hand through them, fine like a spider’s silk,
Her pale, soft shoulder, unblemished by the ravages of time,
I touch my warm lips to it, a sweet taste like mother’s milk.
My arm encircles her waist, like a snake around sleeping prey,
I feel like I found home, like reaching an island in a sea of mist,
Her lips part slightly, her ivory teeth like the glow of the moon,
Every time I press my mouth to hers, it is like the first time we ever kissed.
I will let her sleep now, in her dreams I will be with her still,
Dreams of the times we had, and all the passionate things that we did,
We will resume our love tomorrow, our romance will begin anew,
I whisper to her how much I love her as I gently close the coffin lid.
Rick Powell lives in Oak Forest, Illinois. He is a lover of horror and dark fiction and his poetry and stories have appeared in numerous publications including Infernal Ink Magazine, Bon Appetit: Stories & Recipes for Human Consumption, Books of Horror Vol. 3 (Part 2), and most recently, Lustcraftian Horrors: Erotic stories inspired by H.P. Lovecraft.
His poetry books consist of the titles My Soul Stained My Seed Sour, and More Regrets Than Glories.
He can be found on Goodreads: