to pause, to please his pursed lips
poetry molded into bodies
to have, to hold, to heave
his sigh into my ear, honey melody
to see, to speak, to speed
my heart, the pace of his fingers
this bruised peace of ours will last perhaps a minute more
his touch tattooed over my bare skin
he will leave soon, his scent will follow
avalanche trickling down the sand dunes
my ruins will linger on the forgotten floor
YOU ARE READING
HYSTERIA
Poetryand i will ruin you for loving me. and you will love me for ruining you. an attempt to reclaim the madness that defines femininity
