Wanting

Why can some women never find the being to satisfy their soul?

Within every woman

there lives the call

of the wild

A throwback to her

emergence from the past

Be it dragon, wolf

or man of mystery

Her blood

now courses

with the nocturnal

blood of her calling

In that midnight hour

She yearns

for the breath

of the beast

upon her body

Its obsidian eyes

peering into her soul

She has journeyed

too far to ever turn back now

Within the lair

of her immortal love

She howls their lamentous song

away from the

acrid pyres of a dying world

demanding she be satisfied

and only one

will do