in so many forms
for some brightly lit in the sun, water falls and picnics
what of that? sickly sweet and taffy cream ant infested bologna!
romance is this my love:
wine as red as blood
candle wax dripping upon skin
pain as sharp as the knife which i use
to carve your lust for me into your chest
as piercing as my body into yours – the physicality of romance
can you feel it?
can you feel the torture that i endure upon days
and nights of not knowing where you are
what you are doing and with whom?
romance is a fistful of angel hair and fingernail clippings
romance is a mindfull of possession and need
i hand it to you on a plate of flesh and bone
for you know as well as i
doesn’t it my love?