The thrash of the tiger
Is held so quietly within
the stillness of her striped form.
Soft muscularity,
Terrifying black, gold beauty.

Would my hand dare caress
Her silken curves,
Her pulsating chest,
The vicious magnificence of her passion,
Deadly and divine
With no transgression
Sensuous jugular enclosure
a powerful embrace,
Enters the darkness in rapture
Overpowered by grace.

Meditative feline
Stalk the deepest depths of being
Heart roars, erect claws,
Mortal flesh trembling.
Golden mirror of my soul
I know you could consume me whole
Untamed beast flying wild
She honours her nature
Like an innocent child.

What is the mirror that you hold
Hidden in your black and gold
Devoted to your enticing grace
Your ferociousness holds no distaste
You hold the power of the passion
Unashamed and unrationed.

If I am you and you are me
We are the perfect symphony.

~ Carly Mountain

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