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Image for the poem artist of broken hearts

artist of broken hearts



even in her sublime pose
I know of her inner firestorm & brass
like a tempest incarcerated in a ball of glass

I’ve tasted the burning flesh of war
but it didn’t fry my palate
like the ardent tongue of a virgin or a whore

a woman is rock & shale, carnelian fires
a man’s made of clay
easy to fashion to her sinister desires

a wicked Medusa, & I’m tangled in the strands
of her hair. her hands grip my throat
till I’m singing ‘baby, I don’t care.’

call her Lucretia, let me taste her bane kiss
that adheres. call her Hannah,
she can drown me in the slick vendetta of her tears

she’s a Rembrandt in the art of love
and sex too  –  sex is an art
paint me a weeping Pagliacci, darlin’
paint me a broken heart

she takes me for a crazy ride
then drops me off on the lonely roadside
baby blue, & all I can do
is blow her a kiss goodbye…


(Art: Andre de Dienes)


Written by JohnFeddeler
Published
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