Two Wolves
The wolves inside me are fighting again.
The first, primal and visceral, howls into the night, always on the offensive.
The second, the voice of moral compass, patiently waits in the wings.
"FEED ME!" screams the first, sending tingles of arousal shooting through my body.
His calls grow ever louder, I cannot ignore his constant beckoning.
Then, just as I am about to give in...
The second growls a quiet warning, deploying his secret weapon of defense.
"It's a sin to kill a mockingbird," his low voice rumbles through my soul.
I know his words are true, his impenetrable defense leaving me unable to justify
Giving in to the carnal desires of the first.
Then they meet, a blur of teeth and claws
Tearing at each other relentlessly
While I watch, helpless in my own body
As the battle rages on, brutal and bloody.
Neither giving an inch, neither backing down
Until finally, my body settles back to its base state
And the two wolves stalk away to their respective corners
Leaving me alone, in a sea of guilt and shame.
The battle has ended, but there is no victor.
In a few short weeks, the wolves will reappear to fight anew.
And the war wages on, never ending.
(Note: This poem was inspired by a facebook meme, one of my favorite literary quotes, and monthly hormonal surges.)
Beautiful!
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