Poem: The Torrid Darkness

Warmth is what you notice first

It drips from you like shadow

It sinks into you like sunlight

It swirls in your heart and beats in your veins

Fire and lightning at once



The blackness surrounds you

It pulls you in

Deliciously dark

Like the end of the world

The end of your world

Pleasure spiraling


Manifesting in a gasp

In a whisper

A giggle

A laugh


You can feel it inside of you

Building to flame

Wrapping you in flame

Dark flame

You sit up on his chest

You squeeze him with your thighs

You sigh, smiling in the darkness

But you know he can’t see it


You can hear in his voice

He has his eyes closed

Flame washes him away, something else washes into you

Something new

Something to purge the pain and the doubt

Something you’ve never felt before

Is it love in the dark?

The soft, charged dark

Black like night, just like the rest

Maybe love floods through your body as you move

With him

On him

In him


Your eyes, half-lidded, open

Your lips, half-parted, close

He’s gone.

You are alone in the torrid darkness

Like now

Like always.



©2012 Sam Oliver (Eris)

I’m okay. Really I am.




Did you know that torrid has a buncha different meanings? I didn’t. I always thought it meant ‘proof that this author is trying to sound smart without knowing what a word actually means’. Cheers!

2 thoughts on “Poem: The Torrid Darkness

  1. Oh yea…..I like, dear one, love how you were like liquid fire in your words, so in tune and entrenched in your senses,,,,,,So real and vivid, more like a memory…..
    Yes, I do hope that you are OK, dear…..I relate to you, and to that consuming reality that bites in the end….
    You are always welcome to use my email should you ever want to talk. It would be splendid to hear from you, and I am a very good listener, and am not quick to judge…..
    Just wanted you to know that. The info is yours to do with as you wish.
    Very nice job on the poem……would love to see more like this from you in the future…..

    • It is and it isn’t a memory, I’d say, of a time that did and didn’t happen. Sometimes I can lie in bed for hours and hours, staring at the ceiling. Sometimes I sit on my bed and wonder at nothing very much. Others, like now, I get stuff done. :3 Thank you very much for the offer. I always fall behind in email, though. It’s like a curse, if that’s even a thing.

      I liked the style of this poem, if not the trigger for it. It’s different from my usual fare, and therein lies the danger with wanting more of the same, with me! I vary my style a lot from poem to poem and story to story! At least, I like to think I do. ❤
      Thank you for your kindness and for taking the time to read my work, Celeste. I appreciate it with all my heart, I really do.


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