Shadow Play

He comes to her, pale in the moonlight, pale as death, traces of lily permeating the thick air, and she stands still, still as starlight, her liquid hair a mere shadow in the night. Eyes never leaving hers, he crosses the distance between them, breaking the silken line once sacred. Heartbeat, full and rich, echoes in the stillness, in the deadly fallen stillness, and blood quickens. The silence presses with its own heat, causing sweet pain and fear, anticipation shredding the sky. Times stops, cool and remote, as the faint tear of cloth is heard, then all is still again. Soft and terrible, chill ice and hot blood, mixed with tears shed for loss, surrender and ecstacy. Sweat and steel, little one, low and still, spasm. Moment rare as diamonds, candle flickers in utter blackness, drawn shades muffle the spattering rain. Lace thrown across one shoulder, dust scattered on bare boards, and the lily rests on silk.