The Scent of Reddening Flesh Eryn O'Neal Happenings Editor She holds her breath
In heavy
Anticipation,
Waiting.

She yearns to be
Heaved into
The existence where
She knows she belongs.

She clutches the sheets,
Wondering what adulation will be
Bestowed upon her bare,
White flesh.

Weightless now,
She drifts away.
To obey is her duty,
His, to lead her. Here anguish does not exist.
Instead,
Pain fades into pleasure.
Woes dissipate into the darkness.

She feels his presence
Linger.
She can feel his shadow on her
Warm reddening skin.

They have discovered
A world together.
Two beings melted into one.
They are drowning in each other.

“You are so good,”
He tells her.
“You surprise me every time.”
He admires her raised, welted skin.
Those words keep her grounded,
Like ribbon
Anchoring balloons from erupting
Under the flaming sun.

He caresses her pink skin,
Knowing they have just begun.
She writhes, still bound.
Dewy from his touch.

The night presses on
And the clock moves fast like
A crashing white river
Consuming everything in its path.

In each other they find
Companionship
Unlike what others have
Experienced.
What they were both
Embarrassed to admit,
Resulted in bringing them
Closer.

As the smell of reddening flesh
Fills the air,
Their hands touch
And they discover each other.