Damp, the sheets clung to her

He’d had her again,

Trapped in a dream that was only a dream

His hands felt real over her skin

Soundless lips sliding their way as she shook and ached to awake

“It’s not real…”

But she couldn’t deny the smell of his hair

Or the sight of his marble form

It was harder now, to shake the dream

Every bone in her craved to puddle

To pool at his feet

And quench the diety that had

Assumed his form

“But it will do…”