I haven’t written a poem in close to five years.

I haven’t had a reason to give in to my fears

And sense then I’ve learned a lot about my piers

Good things and bad

Touching and sad

But most of all I’ve realized

I can’t move on until I step back, and I can’t step back without opening the door

The door down deep, in the dark side of me

Hidden away for no one to see

Forgive me for the teenager in me

And allow me to tell you what’s there to see

There’s the dark love with brooding eyes that made me hunger

There’s the man who hurt me when I was younger

The father I don’t know

The father I was given

And the father took from me by time, age and a failing heart.

I consent that you may see; the turmoil bubbling up in me over the lack of pride my family has in me.

I wonder now as I did then, is there such a thing as a real friend?

Are they there for some unseen gain? Why is it that so often they cause you pain?

And why is it the ones who are true, you can not be true to?

What makes a man? What makes him weak, what makes him strong, what makes him tattoo him self because he knows not the beauty of his own skin? What makes him love every woman that he meets until his love is stretched to thin?

What makes us hurt the ones we love?

What makes us wonder what we should have done?

What makes us wonder what we could have done?

And Why?

Sagira stepped with bare feet through the fog thick forest. Her heart beat like a drum of emotion, energy, and power. Warmth around her was exotic to her senses. Temptation broiled her soul and her hungered eyes scanned the thickly treed area. Passion so long left from her returned in what seemed like an eternal instant when he came into view.

This misty spirit rose from the fog covered ground and blinked at her with eyes of fire-red. The wolf shaped specter came ever closer and soon he stood before her. Some where between where he’d been and where he was now he took the shape of a man. Caramel flesh stretched over muscle and bone. His eyes were warm dark chocolate in almond shaped sockets. 

His hand came to touch her cheek, setting her skin on fire when he did. He had carpenter’s hands, rough and strong. She leaned into his touch allowing him to keep her from the world, begging him to stay ever after and no matter what any one else wanted from them. It hurt, it broke her inside, this want, this addiction that faked love in her heart.

His hands trailed and her fingers raked his thick black hair back to look into his eyes. Sapphire met chocolate. Hunger feasted upon lust that could not sate it. A glint of silver caught her eyes and she lowered them to his neck. Broken hearted, she watched as the silver chained collar bit into his skin; his mistress called for him and he would answer. Disappearing as quickly as he’d come, leaving her alone.

Sagira fell to her knees when he was gone. She touched her cheek where his hand had been, wanting desperately to feel him for a moment more.