A/N: This was a poem that I did for an LJ contest, the theme was Kikyou.

Miroku dreams
of cold hands that stroke
his body in the night.
He wakes
to find sweat has caked his skin and
his hand has clenched into a fist.

Kikyou calls him,
a voice that only he can hear
wakes him in the night.
The whisper of a glowing serpent
draws him from his bed.
Their mistress waits for him
with moon-pale skin, night-dark eyes
and a touch of the grave on her lips.

She does not speak
as she guides him to her.
He is heat to melt her ice
and is life to break her loneliness.
She is willing and it is enough
for him to find release within her body.

Her skin tastes of ash.
Miroku thinks of sin as they
move together,
her legs wrapped around his hips.
She responds almost like a living woman,
he makes himself forget.
If he remembers that she can't
bear him children
his cock goes limp at the thought.

Kikyou's kisses do not warm his mouth.
Her flesh is pliant, beautifully shaped,
if she weren't so cold he wouldn't
know the difference.
He doesn't know if he pleases her,
he is gentle every time.
Kikyou makes no comment, only
strokes his face with her icy fingers
when he shudders inside her.

Sometimes his weakness appalls him, but
then again,
he was condemned a long time ago,
as was she.

Sango would hate him
Inuyasha would murder him, and
Kagome would only look at him with
pity in her gaze.

"Say you love me,"
she whispers before she leaves.
Always he says it and always she
pretends to believe him.
He doesn't know how she really feels.
He doesn't ask.

Miroku tells himself it is compassion for
her isolation that he feels, understanding
how it feels to be cursed. And every time
he leaves her he swears
it will be the last. But he knows himself
better than that and lies awake
at night, not waiting for the dawn.