Musings from the Left Side

Short Stories & Poetry


Dialogue 01

He:
In the fires eyes
We are all but cinder
Yet to be burned
And yearning for our passions
It licks and dances
In the winds of labored breath
Drifting to and fro
Languishing in life and dealing
In a temporal death
To simmer and shiver
Under a moon lit calm
Waiting to consume
To devour
To love

She:
Oh to have you in moon light,
Where feral howls fill night's sky.
To feel your breath as spoken words
Turn to lycanthropic heavings.
The presence of your heat on flesh of ice
As forced to ground I succumb
To passions dark and wild.
And if you would offer me your throat,
Would I loss myself in desire
And give over my soul?

He:
and from the darkest of hearts
Does erupt forth a breathing
And writhing mass of molten passion
Threatening to consume
To burn out the night
Searing even the most sacred of hearts
Driving the beauty to light
Chasing the most base and benign soul
Forcing it to evolution
Twisting the hearts life
From it’s rended flesh
Turn every drop to a crimson
And crystalline sparkle of pre ecstasy
Washing all that bathe in its glory
Into a shivering and maddened state
Of bliss most dark
Drawing out the blood
To paint its mark upon the rose
Of the coldest frame
Making it a slave of passions love

She:
For thee would I step down from throne on high
And walk away from dominion?
To bend a knee and bow a head and spirit
That no army has ever broken?
I would drown in eyes that have met out death
Yet gaze with passion and desire.
To ride the harpies wind
And cry out to celestial beings
That in all the heavens
Could not obtain the bliss,
The fire, The life
That is in such a one's kiss

He:
And in one perfect black kiss
It seals the heart and soul
In a twisted passion intertwining
And wrought with thorns
That ensnares and confine
The withering and dying soul
Giving heart to a new one
That would only survive
In the hardest stony embrace
Of a once barren land
Creeping through it
Like a river of life’s blood
Tainting all that it contacts
Burning it, changing it
To a suitable companion
To wander and terrorize the night winds
And cause kingdoms to crumble
And angels to weep
At the hideous beauty it possesses

She:
To hear those words from your lips,
To see your eyes as they are spoken.
The thrill of them washing over me
As the smell of gardenias and honeysuckle
On warm sultry night's breeze blows through my hair.
To feel the fire of the port
And the heat of your breath on nap of neck
As longing words sing to my soul.
Imprisoning me in chains
That I never desire to break.
Oh the agony of such ecstasy

Theresa & Jahn


(this was an actual dialogue)
Composite of me and Jahn in an image by Brom