Courtship in Shadows
I liked her skin. It was smooth, as a breeze shivering the subtle foliage of leafy valleys in springtime. It burnt with a soft texture of winter embers besieged by the cold blanket of the night, as soon as my lips touched it and sunk in the thicket of her neck, rummaging into the deepness of an uneasy sleeping, in which she seemed to tremble at the edge of pleasure or frenzy. Every night, lurking under the cloak of darkness that swinging between the dimmest hour and the edge of dawn, I looked for feeling the throbbing roar of her blood trapped among the lintels of the most profound dream. Then my hands, my arms, my chest, my whole body slipped inside slowly, enfolding hers as a silent mist clings to the boundaries of every single thing, taking off every veil, every layer of cloth, until undressing the vibrant epidermis moistened by moondew.
Did she ever presage me? In the fathomless ravine of her reveries, was she reached by the mild whisper of my voice intoning immemorial anthems, inflamed by ancient passions? Did she perceive the longing sizzle of my hands over the skin of her breasts, beneath the voluptuous curve of her waist? Maybe my mouth was engraved on the exquisite creases of her neck, as an indelible trim of fire, an invisible blaze burning the most inscrutable corners of her fantasies. Inapprehensible. Unspeakable. A dark, panting fever upon her chest, pushing her nude body beyond the cell of the sheets, in a voiceless scream made of arms and hands stretching out into the gloom and calling out, searching out blindly.
“She is raving”, they said. “She is dying.” Dying? It was not death. It was life. At last, life hosting in the pallor of her limbs, in the contorted shape of her body, in the warm coldness of her hands. Here, among the enervating loneliness of the night, when everything sleeps and is diluted into the shadows, our hour starts. Before darkness abates, I will have gone, for the last time, over the smoothness of her skin, laying and abandoned in this bleak room. In one last kiss I will sink my lips in her sweet flesh, and in one last death rattle she will clutch at me, once more and forever.
And it shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying. Then I will wait patiently, hidden into the dense murk, for her body beneath the sacred bosom of this land to recall the yearning for some hands and some lips. To find her way through roots and stones. For her eyes to open as two wildfires towards the darkness, to shine and look at me with the fierceness of an endless thirst. And for her mouth to grin at me, feline, and to whisper in an immortal panting: “I’m hungry”.
https://searingwords.wordpress.com/2017/08/05/courtship-shadows/
