Turning the Tables

 

She: 

Far from home, 

Yet I don’t feel alone; 

Not a finger of fear 

And I must have finally grown. 

He: 

These trees of solitude 

In the forest of your dreams, 

And when you finally break 

Who would hear you scream? 

Her: 

Under the heavy covers

My mind calms and stills 

The soothing wind blows 

And a curious sensation spills… 

He: 

My eyes shutter, along with the sinking sun 

The enveloping darkness doesn’t hinder what I see,

Safe under your covers, as you lie in your bed

I look at all that  you seek to deny me. 

She: 

This heated breath, that hovers so close

I reach out into the dark but cannot feel; 

This invisible force that watches over me,

An Angel? Or the devil? What would it have me, steal? 

He: 

How naive you are, my lovely prey; 

You assign me wings and halo to save,

Your delicious skin, and your soul untouched 

The very essence of you to be kept from the grave… 

She: 

Something evil this way comes? 

Or a fear as false as its cause?

These slumbering corridors, my feet walk through; 

Nothing to still them or force a pause. 

He: 

I hear them, these staccato clicks 

these shadows, they form behind me and new, 

The game I began wasn’t supposed to end this way;

I wasn’t supposed to turn around and find you. 

She

Two can play with this moulding clay, 

Build on your rules and make them my own; 

Your weakened sight didn’t adjust quite right

To the light, when on darkness, it’s shone. 

And here I am, the Queen of your darkness 

Your hapless prey, no longer weak, 

No longer the meal of soft and sublime, 

Never again vulnerable to what you seek.. 

*the victim turning the tables on a predator.