This Poem was Submitted By: Patricia Gibson-Williams On Date: 2002-02-13 09:52:57 . . . Click Here To Mail this Poem to a Friend!

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Rapture’s Fire

Rapture… This does not begin To convey the love… nay, so much more. The euphoria I know with you But, the wolf is at the door! Oh yes, you are the wolf, And I’m an angel falling. Playing here in rapture’s fire I cannot hear the master calling. You lay me down… devour me, On pure skin lashes rain. I’m everything… and nothing. You grant pleasure, wrapped in pain. Your caresses bring me ecstasy, As we howl beneath the moon, Bathed in silver streaks of light, Morning comes too soon. I lay fallen, washed in blood. Battered, bruised and sore! But I remember rapture, And I hunger… beg for more! You whisper to me… “Angel” “Let me feast on you tonight.” I — knowing it is wrong, Convince myself it’s right. So, I go on accepting, The rapture you impart. First soaring, and then falling, As I give you my heart! The rapture and the bliss, Have seared me to the core. Now I’m an angel fallen; And the wolf is in the door!

Copyright © February 2002 Patricia Gibson-Williams

Additional Notes:
The nickname of the man I wrote this about is Wolf. (I should have run when I heard that) The pain I was writing about was caused by the fact that he was not faithful, but even so, I could not leave him. When ever we are together it's heaven. When we are apart, I remember that our relationship is tainted... Hence the "pleasure wrapped in pain."


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