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Beyond the Elm Tree
Paul Kershaw
4/14 - 9/26/99
These things will I remember:
Honeysuckle and roses in your hair
Salt and powder on your skin
Darkness and fantasy in your eyes
Crimson and taupe on your lips
Light and shadow on your neck
Heat and drawing in your thighs
Motherhood and passion in your arms
Childhood and lust in your breath
These things will I remember:
The buttery silk upon your breasts
The hard points my fingers teased
The catch in your breath
The shift in your body
The warm air against my ear
The moistness of your tongue
The scraping of your teeth
The tangy musk on my lips
These things will I remember:
Shivering
Squeezing
Panting
Tensing
Moaning
Nipping
Tugging
Screaming
These things will I remember:
All is still
Floating, eyes closed
You are somewhere beneath me
Within me
Around me
All is quiet
I have been released
You have been released
In the night,
I close my eyes and I remember
And gently stroke your cold skin
As you decay beside me
In the morning,
I will bury you
Beyond the elm tree
And leave to seek another
7 responses total.
I posted this a while back, but I was prompted lately to change it drastically, so I did. =}
... ... Wow. I don't believe I'd seen this before, but I might be wrong. If I have, the ending came as just as much of a shock the second time around.
I remember it. I'm not sure if the material itself is different; it seems merely to be formatted a different way, to the best of my memory. Perhaps brighn will point out how it's different? resp:2 It has retained its shock..
dear gods, this kicks all sorts of butt.
Here's the "erotic" part of the original (from item #74): This things will I remember: Sensations of love. The sweetness of your perfume. The taste of your skin, warm and comforting, as you wrapped your arms around me. The depth of your eyes, and the smooth swell of your breast beneath the cool silk that brushed against me as we slept. The musk of your sex upon my lips, your moans, rising from a lilting whisper to a crescendo of ecstacy that echoed in the night. The strength of your muscles, your thighs clenched tight around my waist as I thrust into you. I'm in a writing group right now, and the critique there was that I was being too direct and overt... that I should try having just a series of interconnected images and sensations. That's how it was changed.
Ah. (FWIW, I agree).
I disagree. To me, the series appears to break the flow of the style.
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