| Subject: {ו×}... Loves Crime ...{ו×} |
Author:
Lost at Sea
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Date Posted: 19:44:20 05/10/01 Thu
Author Host/IP: px1nr.wp.shawcable.net/24.66.94.140
In reply to:
Loves Crime
's message, "*decieving*" on 16:06:23 05/10/01 Thu
*His hooves tramp the packed earth beneath him, slicing, licking, churning, grasping, his stride growing in momentum, his legs pumping, pumping, the muscular build of his mottled figure taut, tense, his stride almost mechanical as he tears through the longing strains of wheat toward her.. The stalks creep silently up the rise of his cannon, stroking gently the groove, slithering stealthfully upward, blindly searching for a lead, a hold upon something, the ardent slope of his shoulder causing each bend of vegitation to curl upward in its persuit... The figure ahead him grows steadily with each passing moment, his lips parted, thrusting inward the cool wind's breath of the night, the air sifting expertly past the words that lay caught within his throat, jarred, concealed by their own cluttered means.. Yet... Was it her..? Was this figure the one that he had saught, the one that he loved so dearly, the one that might have abandoned this love at any second.....? The words roll along the back of his tongue, pressing onward with determined battle of the forces that reject it, searching frantically for a path that might lead to its release, to the speech of each, the relief from their rest upon his aching mandible.. So many things that he wished to say to her, so many words that tasted as honey as their sweet aroma spilled through his tender lips.. His heart throbs deeply within the cavity of his chest, its pump a constant pang within him, as if the tormented body were thrashing about him, clawing at its confining walls, burning, searing the charred flesh within, searching for some means to leap from his throat and cling with all of its life to the approaching figure.... Yes, yes.. Her figure was growing.. Visible, now, as the sun's auburn face grasps her own, clutching the grooves and contours of her features, the protrudant bone which bulges from above her cheek, all tinged by a golden hymn... So perfect, so angelic, blackness, yet light.. His stride lifts as he nears, nears with such endeavour, for perhaps one glance, simply one last glance, to the face of the most beautiful mare of the heavens..........*
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