Ichor

four; seeker.

his skin – as frail as the sheen of ice

cascading down the creamy wisps

beneath, adjourning every

vein and melding every ersatz spark –

is touched. he whimpers – for it hurts

as his skin tethers and rips. elusive –

is how she feels when she muses how

enflamed his pelt ruins within her

fingertips. he wails, he tries, he soars

to clasp the beast within her. bruises

surround his creed – inhibiting the soul

within. quiescent tears – as ungodly ascend –

rake downwards. she murmurs

love he cannot relinquish to seek.

pangs of salacious jaunt haunt caught within its cage,

and worthwhile, as mortal as he may be, his skin

refuses to rage. his hands fall, as they embrace her.

he is scared, she tells. and he steps on his crown,

petals tarnishing with her mere trace. and he –

is vanquished albeit the zenith he is.