Soul Love

    Subtitle: (Immoral Immortal)

She sidled up to him, ignoring the others pitifully thronging around her
Leaned into him
Pressed tangled locks ‘gainst his stomach
Reached up to trace a line with her forefinger
Over parted lips, the length of his jaw
Tenderly, to the nape of his neck
Felt him stiffen

Rigour mortis was setting in

The others watched, fascinated
As she tended the hanged corpse
Men speculated
Was she his mistress?
The sensuality of her movement, not that of their wives’

The remaining women in the yard
Whispered their disgust at her touching him so
A girl asked her mother, “Why has she not shed a tear for her loss?”
The mother replied, “She will cry when the cart comes to cut the corpse down.”
But then they all saw her arch her back
Close her eyes
Languidly smile

The mother ushered her child hurriedly from the yard
Men leered
One was forcibly shoved from the spectacle by his wife
Embarrassed, the women shuffled off through the sawdust

Except one, she lingered
Unmarried, despite being nineteen and not without charms
She touched hand to breast
Smoothed the forming beads of sweat
Cheeks flushed, ran her tongue nervously over the bow of her lip

She looked for the group she was with,
Saw they were gone
And with a tingle of shame, turned to go
Then, as if sensing that shame, the woman at the corpse called out to her

Estelle ignored the first call
Not quite hearing what had been said
Not realising she was being beckoned
But the woman called again
She regarded the temptress with raised brows
But the woman was walking barefoot toward a tavern overlooking the yard
She walked with a lilting fluidity
Estelle found herself matching her step
Falling in line
Following without question

The door to the dark tavern heaved open
Estelle followed her in, paused in the doorway
Overwhelmed by the heady stench of dank walls and stale beer
Estelle chased the woman up creaking stairs
Into a candle-lit alcove
Panic lumped in her throat; she could not recall her reason for being there
She turned to flee, but the softest caress in the small of her back
Electrified her senses, pinned her to the wall
Invisibly captive
Then, the woman’s harsh laugh
Like a shard of jagged glass
Slicing through skin
Broke the spell
And Estelle
And the dead man’s soul
Flew free

Copyright Diny FvK

Form: No form – non what-so-ever, although I feel that over time I will probably prune this one into some sort of order.
This poem is an experiment in Gothic Erotica and of combining a story into a poem – it’s heavy on the prose and a little bit kinky!

If you like my poem, please share :)

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