Thursday, 12 April 2012

Love Song

I stole a kiss from your lips,
disappeared round and out into
a darkened corner,
left you a powder trail,
and though my lips had
spittled and come unstuck from yours
you still felt them
connected to your own,
threads, webs, the silky fibres
of two moist slugs.

Milk and honey -
is that what you want?
Or a dark shadow to cruise
across your mind
like a sweet fell wind?

I took you in the darkness,
in my grip,
floating on the wind,
your eye drawn to me
like a car crash
or a wounded beast.

But come lick them, please,
my wounds:
they're all yours,
my hound; hound,
come lie at the altar
of my Moon.

Come gather roses,
your lips the petals red
that bled at my thorns.

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