The Beating: Poem

The Beating

I followed the flowered path

Through that dark led by

The howling of the wolves

Hunting in their packs for that

sweet, red

Rose on crisp autumn air

My toes barely noticed the thorns

piercing flesh to fresh pieces

Dripping steadily that

sweet, red

Without even a star in the night

Right into the beating caverns

Drumming a sound,

Hot and Heartfelt

sweet, red

I made myself a little bed

Content to stay a little longer

While you came to lay beside me

Pressed to my mouth, those lips

sweet, red

Whispered sweet wishes

Traced constellations into my skin.

And once I had fallen asleep

Washed in a warmth

sweet, red

That cavern mouth closed

And the spot where you laid laid cold

Simply walked on into that dark night

left me behind, caught in that

sweet, red

Alone to wonder

Which had been the wrong turn?