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.


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