Slow Burn

Man of Mystery
hovers breathlessly over me
eyes aflame
burns from stem to root
I shake
with torturous anticipation
and turn to ashes
in his arms.


A shadow dance;
I swallowed you up into my dark
and therein, the mass of your infliction
grew heavy as it coalesced
under my breast-
taking shape.

Getting the better of me

Why is he still away
Has the icy night led him astray
with the promise of warmth
on his skin
as whiskey spreads from throat
to chest
head upon another’s breast?

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