Hunger

Your hunger is a glimmer in the dark,
a mirror image of my own spark.
I close my eyes and I can hear your call.
If this is hell, then, god, please let me fall!

Rip off my dress, my morals at the door.
Allow the prairies to replace the  floor.
Fuck modern age, with all its fancy gear;
unlatch the cage, let’s both disappear.

There is no evil here, no good,
only the small prey scatters underfoot,
only imprints of toes in frozen grass,
claws digging into frost as miles pass.

The pale moonlight outlines your face.
Heart pounds, caught up in its own race.
The night is primal, black. Your pupils glow.
and our sweat sizzles on contact with snow.

The quick neck bite replaces the romance.
Day chases night in an eternal dance.
Crisp morning air. Brittle underbrush.
And nothing can compare to this rush.

Within this landscape, on this night
There’s no escape, it’s flight or fight.
There’s only moon. There’re only stars.
There’s only lust.  There’re only us.

My own footsteps deafeningly loud.
Adrenaline flows through my blood .
A tinge of fear rises from within.
I know you’re near. I can smell your skin.

No time for thoughts, no need for shame,
There are no words, nothing to explain.
The oldest game that anyone can play,
Where one is predator, the other – prey.

There is no evil here, no good,
only the small prey scatters underfoot,
only imprints of toes in frozen grass,
claws digging into frost as miles pass.

The pale moonlight outlines your face.
Heart pounds, caught up in its own race.
The night is primal, black. Your pupils glow.
and our sweat sizzles on contact with snow.

The quick neck bite replaces the romance.
Day chases night in an eternal dance.
Crisp morning air. Brittle underbrush.
And nothing can compare to this rush.

Within this landscape, on this night
There’s no escape, it’s flight or fight.
There’s only moon. There’re only stars.
There’s only lust.  There’re only us.

The flare of tempers greets the first sun ray.
The darkness scampers out of our way.
The fading stars. The sound of your breath,
as each one of us dies a little death.

Send a cold shiver down along my spine.
Right in my ear, growl – you’re mine!
This need for hurt mixed in with our bliss.
Fuck modern world! It cannot give me this.

 

Copyright @ Julie Deshtor 2011

About Julie Deshtor

Julie Deshtor grew up in the Soviet Union during the turbulent 90's, and moved to the United States shortly after the Soviet Empire collapsed in 1991. A bilingual author, Julie writes both fiction and poetry, as well as translating poetry and lyrics. She brings her rich cultural and life experienced to her fiction, exploring the psychological struggles of her characters with compassion and insight, as they navigate the murky waters of the modern society. Julie currently resides in Utah, USA. Her interests include art, world literature, zoology, anthropology and urban subculture
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