thoughts [poetry book vol. 1]

33 // cunning

POEM #33: CUNNING

A figure will walk where shadows don't linger;
Bringing raging thrill and a wounded finger.
It dances on fields, on lands so strong;
A menacing smile, a meaningful song.

The icy stares of eyes that were once imbued;
Forever clothed, skilled, and never nude.
It embraces bodies—some tall, some thin,
Do not be its willingful guest; or it shall begin.

For danger is love—it can be crude and bare,
A puzzle unsolved, an abandoned lair.
It carves our minds, it touches our skin,
You can only lose, for you are not made to win.

12/23/24