by Ashley Poort |
Bitter as wormwood or Turkish coffee,
this passion stings and burns.
Cheeks blaze with the scarlet sign and stigma
and your teeth leave their signature on my hips.
Prudence we shed like the ash
tapped off my cigarette with trembling fingertips.
This bed is an ocean in which I choose to drown-
sore each morning from being
crushed by your waves.
scalds as you swallow,
but you, oh so deliciously, melt.
The scars will be there only because the body
could not bear the pleasure that it felt.
by Isabelle Dess |
stormy raindrops enlightened by an absinthian glow
How much, how far you have seen, to bring about so much bliss
kings and prophets have led you to Cairo
Two moons embrace my fallen kiss