You are getting closer.
I can hear the crunch of soft sand
and the skitter of stones beneath your
The scent of tanned leather stings
my nostrils while fingers of steel butterflies inflict fresh flesh wounds.
Your feathered crop gently brushes shivering shoulders, floats over proud bones luring me to the killing fields.
Nothing can save me, there is no where to hide.
You have always known how to break wild horses.