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Quemadura



‘The moment he saw her, he knew everything would burn.’
                                                                                  Anais Nin


I want you naked.
but if you are cold, you will wear my poet shirt.
it’s blue & oversized. it was designed to let the
poetry of my heart expand, & never be restricted.

it’s coarse on the inside, because I am coarse.
if it hurts you, it will be me hurting you,
and you will cherish that hurt.

that woman, that extraordinary woman who was
Anais Nin, said that we write to serenade our lovers.
and so I serenade you with this poem. the poems
you keep will be mine, only mine.

if other men have made poems for you, burn them;
give the ashes to the wind, that they might be scattered.
I will watch the wind, & know that you have done this.
the wind will travel where I cannot,
the place where you are.
the place that you hate.

love is a house made of straw, the frail shack in which you hide.
my lust is fire, hotter than the walls of Hell, & with that fire,
I will burn down your sanctuary,
to steal you for my craven hunger.

I say these things because I am mad –
mad with desire for you…


(Art by James Avati)


Written by JohnFeddeler
Published
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