Monday, 11 April 2011

The Burn


The burn is churning


Where I am deepest


Then takes me falling


The heat at my core


Is all there is


Nothing catches my hands or feet


Or they go straight through


The burn is my sex


A taste I can smell


And I wonder


Am I the only one


Who feels untied


By this rich red


Useless to me


A reminder to me


I can scream


And blame it on the burn


And I am hungry so eat


And tired so I sleep


The burn holds me still


A paint for my thighs


In the dark


Slow wings graze me inside


I am soft as I fall.



2010



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