Author S. K. Nicholas

I have shared

land and sky

with you.

I have tasted

blood and honey.

My witch-oil turned

to dragon-fire

at your touch…

Soft fingers laid asleep

until your turmoil

woke them

for so long….

It feels like getting drunk

on old reddish wine

long softened

during times of

War

Equanimity

and

Comets.

What shall I pour in your glass?

Molten flowers

Golden ink

Lucid light

Unicorn mirth…

I dig your veins

for gold.

I find pure

bitter-sweet

amber nuggets.

I fear any story

whose ink

my words

can’t drink…

Yet I drip in yours

ever since.

When your arms call

and your lips

read all my feral kisses

How can there be no heaven?

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“Writing is an Iron Tale, must be tough and sincere to the core of human perception of pain as valor. I am the grumpy T-Rex who started writing out of pain, not because of a polished…