Chaos Continues

In the chaos that cycled around her, just for a moment she surrendered.

Shoulders slumped, eyelids heavy, reality suspended.

The world trickled off her like a rain shower in the spring.

Instinct dragged her towards him, all her resistance dissolved.

His hand, a slow pressure on her lower back. The warmth of him.

Rough fingertips on soft skin, tracing a well known path.

Sinking into the familiar. Peace, relief, like coming home.

And she turned into him, buried her face in his shirt and inhaled him.

But the warmth wasn’t there, he was musty and cold.

The only warmth was in those wandering fingertips

Tender and relaxing, he caressed her exactly as she liked it.  

Moving up her back to the base of her throat and down again.

Soothing aches she did not know she had until now.

Hovering over her throat longer and longer with each caress.

A lazy shadow flickering in the back of her mind.

Slow to react, like a sleepy old man. Slow with age, and routine.

This fear that boiled beneath was dark. Oppressive.

Suddenly those fingernails were sharp.

Circling her throat.

Iron grip.

Choking, bruising, cutting off her air supply.

Panic rising,

not fighting him,

caressing him, soothing him.

Eyes snapped open. The moment had passed.

Weakness, longing. Even now.

Hollow, wondering if there will ever be great passion again without the accompanying fear.

© Emma Stead

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