Priestess-Possession

In the soft hush of dawn

I feel the warmth of his breath

half-waking dreams counter clarity

his pale, porcelain hand to my creamy soft breast

legs tangled in dulcet familiarity

My spine to his chest          

I count the rhythm of his heart

idly wondering which beats I can claim

knowing just one, if, to me, he’d impart

would stoke my love’s tended flame

In the soft hush of dawn

I know the depth of his soul

through the gate of his guarded emotion

By rite of my trials, I am safe in his fold

I am priestess in his devotion

My spine to his chest

I am the weight of his words

and he is my place of confession

my love strung to his with inviolable cords

He is mine, and I am his possession