A gothic themed lesbian poem/story. |
The Preparation I stood out on the balcony Centuries-old stone beneath my feet I watched the glowing moon in the night, I watched the raindrops fill the sky And as translucent clouds passed across the moon I let myself take in it's unique spell Taking in the feeling of the rain as it ran over my face Cherishing and welcoming My emotions of the earth surfaced As I waited For I knew she would be on her way here soon. Now inside my room I reach to light each candle of the iron chandelier My fingers trace it's swirls and texture On each wall of the room there are candle holders that hang I walk around the room to light each candle in a ritualistic manner Leaving the cobwebs and layers of dust on them in this now sacred room A handful of dead roses I drop on the floor in different places My mood is powerful But also soft The strength that hides will be revealed when she arrives. The antique mirror catches my eyes looking back at me And my blood-colored painted fingertips They move softly across the black velvet that fits me like a glove Ribbon lacing is tied My lips are colored deep red And my locket hanging around my neck tells that I keep precious memories I pull back the gray curtain to check to see if she is coming I see down through the tops of the leafless trees and rain She is coming down the path hurriedly The wind is whipping her hair She is wrapped in her long coat I am waiting I know she read the note left on the porch I hear the creak of that large front door open And a slam Then I hear the sound of steps on the rock staircase fill the hall as she climbs While the sound of the rain on the window perfected a masterpiece The handle turns She enters with a flash of a pleasantly surprised smile And my senses are enveloped by her even before she reaches me Using only a look in my eyes, I back her up against the wall, My hand against the wall by her My free spirited woman had been captured to share her free spirit with me She was the one that I admired She brushed my stringy black hair away from my face And wiped the rain from my forehead She kissed my lips in a powerful manner The manner was only her A power that could only come from her Something that makes adjectives weak She unbuttoned her coat And dropped it on the floor I put my face beside hers While I slowly made one caressing stroke from her belly up to her collar bone My writing ends here But the preparation did not end there There was so much more we wanted to do And we did. Our story remains imprinted in the atmosphere of the room Forever lingering Until even after we are long gone. |