Note: You can change font size, font face, and turn on dark mode by clicking the "A" icon tab in the Story Info Box.
You can temporarily switch back to a Classic Literotica® experience during our ongoing public Beta testing. Please consider leaving feedback on issues you experience or suggest improvements.
Click hereWhere I Wept
A Ballad
Last night I dreamed of a grave where I wept,
Choking at misted thoughts: I could sustain
The hurt I felt in silence, while you slept,
By keeping my head bowed beneath the rain;
I watched you with your eyes closed; I'd have flushed
Out breasts by ripping off your lacy gown
Had you been half awake; you would have blushed,
But you were shielded as the rain poured down;
There was a time when I would just have leapt
And shouted joyously how much I cared;
But pride, before the fall, ensured I kept
My peace in an impasse where words were pared;
Yet each caress I glimpsed left me quite thrown
Like scattered coverlets that showed your form;
Though thunder crashed around, I heard you moan,
For your desire was central to my storm;
Instead, I realise we could have dared
To build our lives and gather in a treasure
Of warm nights made for loving, not the scared
And fearful timbre of this nightmare weather;
Those wakeful hands deployed that cunt so warm,
Where I wished to repose more than my palm;
And, as you moistened, I could only scorn
The way each restless finger played so calm;
Winds drive the rain to drench the sodden heather;
And I fall to my knees, where I commence
The tracing of the secrets that I measure
In cold, hard marks - my only recompense;
I would not find reward within the balm
Of fucking forced on you with such duress
In lighting-fired skies: there is no harm
In your cunt being filled with man's excess;
The night attacks now, I have no defence:
I know I can't take back the thoughts not said;
My shirt is wet through; I have lost all sense
Of haunting you while you sleep there: I've fled;
And passion's fled before the cock can bless
Your womb in the night's darkness, where I dwell
For, when I glance, I'm focussed on the mess
The man who takes your gash leaves there as well;
I will not speak a word - I will not tell
Nor will I haunt your fuck-filled bed; so, hush:
Dream on of wild couplings that dispel
The love once felt for you which I must crush;
Had I the chance to speak, we'd never wed
Or form the lasting bond: who could have kept
All plagues away with hope that is so dead?
Let my ghost haunt the graveyard where I wept.