furthest thing from beauty
I should put her in a bell jar, to keep her safe from bad things.
but mostly, from me; from my hands, that would vandalize the
flower of her delicate flesh – white oleander, beautiful & deadly.
and from my eyes; she loves my eyes.
I’d put a tub there, & watch her when she bathes, as she lavishes
the wanton female parts of her with soapy water. as she closes
her eyes & submits to the steamy embrace, her hand busy under
the floating bubbles, arousing the tormented cries of her evil angel.
I’ll watch her mouth move as she calls to the man who elicits her
orgasms. but in the silence of the bell jar, I won’t hear her
say my name.
there will be a bed just large enough for a woman & a phantom.
when she sleeps, I’ll know her dreams; I’ll crawl into her naked,
silent seduction, feel her body tremble under my touch, take
her the way a beast takes his mate. molest her like a savage,
not to love, but to fuck. exactly like that.
brown eyed lover, she calls me. the shining in my eyes is the torch
of my passion, & I burn her china doll skin so she feels the
suffering a woman endures. I am made of violence, & by violence
my desire erupts in bitter creams that cascade over her sorrow.
then I kiss her, & she forgets.
I walk among the naked poets, in fellatrix winds –
I am the furthest thing from beauty…
(Model: Emmanuelle Beart)