Challenge
This is the hill…
Everyone has a hill they are willing to die on. Tell what yours is and why in any way you choose— poetry or prose. It can be deeply thought-provoking or just wonderfully silly nonsense. No limits here. Best entry gets $5 and two runners-up will get something as well :)
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Fade to black (a drabble)
She shivers when he touches her.
There’s no warmth in his embrace; there is power. His strength is concrete in a silk suit, and she's helpless to stop his hands from roaming what's his.
She is stripped one button at a time, but she was bare all along.
The pool of her clothes is a reflection of her complete surrender.
"Are you sure?" His whisper holds no promise of tomorrow, only night everlasting.
Her love for him is the hill she'll die on, but she’ll never know the grave’s cold comfort.
She becomes his crimson bride, and sunsets become memories.