[Image from Inspirebee.com]
[Inspired by The Heavy’s “Same Ol'”:]
It was a taste, particular; an addiction
she couldn’t give up. She only had to look at him,
lying there, arms above his head, skin alabaster white
but for the singular sleeve of ink – colours
so appealing it set her tongue tingling.
She liked him like this: asleep, peaceful,
her pale-skinned angel. A drastic difference to
the tightrope-walking man, balancing on
the razor edge
of the life he’d chosen for his waking hours.
A stranger then, he could be, a darker version
of the winged creature adorning his bicep,
so smooth beneath her fingertips.
In these moments, their roles reversed.
She became his guardian – of his body,
of his dreams. She smiled tenderly whenever
his eyelids fluttered in disturbed sleep.
A bad habit, that’s what he was; a drug
that sent her high into ecstasy.
But he was her glove – a glove
that upon occasion didn’t sit quite right,
a bit tight, that suffocated her
to an ache; to pain.
Yet, mostly, they were suited and
she was certainly protected.
The night time hours realised their situation,
the reasoning behind their union, despite
the mutterings of others.
A truth secret, shared only between them.
Pressing the contours of her body to his,
she ran her fingers lovingly through his hair.
[Copyright © N R Nolan 2015]