love burns cold
* I fear that the time is long past when we can put appropriate controls on the boundaries of AI … so, just how far will it take us? Or the better question may be, just how far will it allow US to go? *
~
she …
stood on tiptoe ...
her hair knot, now unpinned, softly burst -
tawny, gold-streaked tresses
tumbling down her shapely form and
coming to sassy rest upon her
rounded backside …
on the cool of his hand 'bout her waist,
his deft index and middle fingers
twirled her tanzanite and rhenium hair pin,
pinky finger tugging suggestively
at her patent leather belt,
while his other hand attended to
the buttons of her blouse,
its soft cashmere sliding off her
softer shoulders
(like azure slides off a pink sky at dusk) …
she stretched her neck to reach up,
her supple chili pepper lips
pressing against cool steel and biofibre,
eyes once again searching for
the spark in his -
perfectly-shaped, bright baby blue irises
shuttering with robotic precision -
the coal black pupils reflecting positronic
energy deep in their unnatural recesses …
she loved “him” dearly ... in her way -
had compromised a great deal
just to get here -
this place of caring-yet-cautiously-cold cooperation,
miraculous metal and the fairest flesh
bared and bound to each other …
they were, by all standards,
happy and passionate and vital,
yet it was just that - a spark in his eyes -
that she longed for most
that she dreamed of and ever questioned
that she dreaded, deep-down
she might never …
see.
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