BEFORE IT’S TOO SOON TO REGRET

Tangled writhe
of limbs;
havoc tide
of hips;
the faintest taste
of blood
in your mouth
tainted
by craving veins;
thoughts
stripped bare—
we shed all
that’s left
and write our selves back
into
dripping
wet
skin;
white-hot cliffs
jump to screaming deaths
while we gamble
our immorality
(just to stay alive).
Lips. Kissed raw.
Fucked. Into silence.
Anonymous. Now.
Even to ourselves.

2 Comments

  1. risking everything for passion. it’s what most of us do or have done, i think. again, with your poetry some of the power comes from the sounds: “writhe…tide…limbs…hips…tainted…craving” and so on . you have a well-tuned “ear” that makes your poems rewarding to read aloud,

    Liked by 1 person

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