He smothers his screams,

deep down inside his soul,

where she can’t hear them.

Although he feels her burn.

The heat scorching his blistering hands.

But he holds on.

He is submerged with her,

to tackle the tide, the tears.

Gasping for breath

for both of them,

as he fights the waves engulfing her.

But he holds on.

He feels it coiling tightly

round his sore heart,

hissing poisonously in his ear.

Its venom seeps, taking effect,

Shedding skin, changing her before him.

But he holds on.

He is deafened by its reverberating roar.

Its rage reducing his declarations,

to whimpers.

The King of the Beasts,

toys with its prey, his love.

And he holds on

© Copyright Sarah Catherine Anstey 2016