If Death was a Woman

by Scott Steward (21 July, 2022) Edited 2nd draft (1 August, 2023)

I touch your hair. I feel its weight in my hand. I feel it flow through my fingers. It is silk. It is water trickling over river stones in a country brook. Your fragrance reminds me of jasmine or honeysuckle in the summertime. I brush your hair away from your face and watch it cascade over bare shoulders and down your back between your shoulder blades. The light of the lamp shimmers over its blackness. I trace your lips with the tip of my fingers. You smile, put your mouth around them, and look at me with twin pools of amber reflecting the gloam. We kiss as if our mouths contain the sea. The vodka on our tongues burns as we burn. Your hands reach into my hair and pull me into you. My hard edges against your soft lines. Your hands inside mine. I hold them as we fall.

We are a frenzy of roaming mouths and hands. Hands that explore unchallenged over each other’s bodies. Rough hands. Caring hands that feel the curves and contours. I lift your dress at your thigh and reveal the shape of your hips, framed with black panties made of silk. You tug at my shirt and pull it up, over my head, and onto the floor. The world outside our window becomes nothing. Our universe is this room. This bed. Your eyes. My eyes. The energy we share. The urgency that drives us. The anticipation that exhilarates us. This is all there is. Time began moments ago. We bloom in the flowers of its creation. We are rushing towards death. Let me die in your arms. Resurrect me with your mouth, and we will pour libations to the goddess.

My hands sink in your hair. My mouth drowns in your mouth. My eyes drown in your eyes. There is a wildfire growing just under our skin. I kiss butterflies into the nape of your neck, and they flutter around your smile before disappearing into the air. I take my hand and slide the spaghetti strap from your shoulder. Your sundress falls to the floor. You are a vision. A work of art lying before me. Your body is a canvas. I will paint you with the mess that I am. I will fall into your soft meadows.

I slide my hand behind your back to release the clasps. Your breasts are freed from their constraints. The garment falls somewhere in the darkness. Feel my hardness rise against you. Against your softness. Against the crest of your thighs and the strength of your femininity. I will throw myself against you. Inside of you, I will become a roaring river. A maelstrom that beats relentlessly against the shore. Useless and driven by a fiery rage that cannot wholly burn or break you.

You are a flood. I feel your warm waters rise around me. I drink from your fountain to quench my thirst. I feel you slick with need. I taste the nectar through the silk. A delicate lacy thing. Sliding it over to one side, I take a tender bite from your apple. Your ripe peach.

I smother you. I drink from you. You taste of almonds and honey and vanilla. I worship at the altar. I kneel before with a mouth that moves with the ebb and flow of the tides. You become the sea it commands. I close my eyes and see kaleidoscope shapes form from the void and turn into pinwheels that gently whirl in the breeze and become birds that fly into the sunset. An Arabic moon shines light through the glass door to the balcony framed by white curtains. The street below is quiet. The mosque is silent in the distance, and so is the sea. I can hear your whimpers, your pleadings, your petitions for mercy through the dream. I drink greedily from your chalice. You pour into my mouth and down my chin. Your body flails in ecstasy. It is on fire. I tease you as if I was a lizard and bring you to the edge. Then over the edge, as the waves crash onto the shore, your body thrashes about as if possessed by demons.

I crawl up to kiss you and let you taste your mess from my mouth. You kiss me hungrily. I bury my hands in your hair again and stare into your eyes as I enter your gates. You abruptly inhale the air from the room and hold it inside your lungs as I penetrate your walls, a groan of ecstasy wells from somewhere deep inside you. I am an engine. A piston that pounds you hard against the headboard. Over the side of the bed. You break and are made whole again. You open yourself up—your legs around my shoulders. I try to destroy you. Yet you remain. I flip you over and fall deep inside of you. I rub my hands over your back. Your hair splashes over the pillow. My hands grip your hips, and I disappear into your heart-shaped vessel.

Our bodies become hot and slick with sweat. We are out of breath and dying. You turn on the fan. You take me deep inside your mouth. I watch as you take me in. I slip my fingers inside of you. Experienced fingers that know where to touch. I bend down to give you more of what you need. To flirt with edges and earthquakes and transform you into something magnificent as if you could become the changing of the seasons or the death of the sun and its triumphant rebirth in the morning. The cycle of life. Sex is death. The dance produces life, yet we shall die together at this moment. Being inside of you makes us immortal inside a sentient universe.

I feel your legs wrap around me. Soft with a strength that takes me aback. They hold me tight as I slip into your churning waters once again. Your hands pull me in close as I thrust. Our bodies become one thing. Our eyes meet in sacred bliss. I hold your head between my arm and grip your hair with my fists. I become a beast without thought or form. I wash over you. I consume you and drain the strength out of your will. Your small frame is crushed under mine as I drive deep inside your mind and body. Somewhere a star explodes. Cannons fire on a distant battlefield. Thunderclaps crack the mountains. Inside of your trembling body, a trumpet heralds the angels in heaven. Lightning splits the sky. I pour myself inside you as you bring me in close with your arms. I collapse onto your helpless body while keeping the brunt of my mass from crushing you. I remain inside as I kiss your ear and neck, and mouth. Softly this time. Caring. Our bodies intertwined. I feel your chest heaving as you try to catch your breath. I hold you close and kiss you before we drift into the darkness of dreams.

The End.