I wrote this poem a few days before I was due to see H again. It was a mundane thought that sparked it – I was thinking of what to say in case I was asked about the marks by a medical professional – and from the first line, a whole poem grew. I think it fits quite well for the Fantasy prompt, even if off at a bit of a Tangent.
The Architecture of my Downfall
They are the remains of love bites
Lingering reminders of the city of pain that once stood
On the hills and plains of my body.
Magnificent still as they whisper memories of their dominance
Of my geography.
Their decorative architecture enhancing the natural rolls and hillocks
that they stood upon and lay strewn over now.
When they are gone,
Nothing but their memory remaining,
my land will be once again free.
Brutally build on me.
I crave your civilization.