My Lord Poem by Holly Heron

My lord he stands before me,
Proud in sky clad cloth,
His skin the gold of summers water,
Hair dark as midnights breeze,
He reaches for my hand,
I take it firm in mine,
Closer I walk,
Bathing in warmth,
The warmth of his love,
I reach to kiss his perfect lips,
Kind and rich they beckon,
In the moment of that kiss,
That simple act impure,
In that moment,
Darkness rises,
Despair beyond my grasp,
My lord, My love,
Has changed before me,
Darker, Crueler, Harder,
His skin its lost its glow,
White now in winters embrace,
His hairs turned darker still,
In midnights dark domain,
But still his lips beckon,
Curled so cruel I flinch,
He pulls me close to him,
I can't escape,
Can't get away,
But,
I don't want to,
This cruel lord before me,
Captures me in grace,
I lust to make him warm,
And be frozen by his longing,
Lord, Lover, Captor,
I love every facet,
Yearning for his frozen embrace,
My lord,
My love,
My end.