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This Darkest Son

Temper linger in his eyes
blacker than the coal
which fuels the fire,
hotter than the flames
that licks the stone.
His moods are fast and furious
this darkest son
of the spirit of fire.
Hot and hard
and slow to fade,
his temper burns,
his rage a flame
on the field of battle,
crushing and cruel
hard and ruthless.
I have heard him called vile
by those that do not know
his true spirit.
I wrap my arms
around his lean waist
touching my mouth
against his copper form
worshipping skin and muscles
silk and steel
and the gentleness
that is for me alone