He Is My Raven As I Am His Wolf

The bitter woody taste of him puts me in a trance.

A dense forest surrounds me on a warm, dry night.

Dancing around a flame to the steady beat of a drum

I dance free, instinctively with him as that flame in my heart eats away the darkness

 

He kisses me again and I breathe in the spicy scent of patchouli.

Twirling in his arms, my feet come off the ground, as if in attempt to fly.

My heart soars in response to his hand on my waist, pulling me deeper into him.

His spirit entices me at the prospect of true freedom

He is here to guide me.

My hands curl into his dark hair as he lifts me onto the bed.

As I look into his icy blue eyes, I can only surrender myself to him

 

At the sight of him, one would think that he was the wolf.

But no… he is my raven, yearning to run wild.

As I am his wolf, yearning to fly free.

I love all that he is.

As he loves all of me.

This poem is about: 
Me

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