He is hunting.
I am running.
A blur of greens,
and reds
rush by as I descend.
I hear him rustling through the blend,
And my hairs stand on end.
He is faster.
He is closer.
I think he is my past master.
I fall and he shrieks.
But why would he shriek?
Suddenly a kiss lands on my cheek.
But why would he kiss me on my cheek?
I turn to face him,
And that is when I notice;
He is not my past grim,
But he is my lover.
The one I had so deeply desired.
The one that now inquired:
Why did he run, away from me?
So before he can even doubt his trust,
I move my lips closer and freed my lust.
