She stares at the wall and
she curses it all when all is
said and done.

But at night she’s thrown,
by the brink of her bones
like glass into the silent sky.

So she’s suddenly lost in
nothing but rain
with a glimpse of Sanity Hill.

There’s nothing to lose, but
mirrors to gain
in pursuit of cloudless dreams.

And when she wakes
she frantically shakes but
always takes her time—

she sits and sifts
by burying her misfits
beneath the fluff of steel pillows.

She stares at her
chapbooks from Poe and Sylvia
plathed upon her cedar shelf.
She puckers and sighs at "the end of the world"
but remains afraid of herself.

You are the salt I crave
That scalds my skin & brands my mind

I hunger for the oblivion of your lips
The famine of your naked skin

Imprisoned by the trance of your eyes
And swallowed by the gentle abyss of your voice

The cruel perfume of your forbidden skin
And taboo of your musk

Your warm thighs wrapped, butter soft, around me
I ache for the drowsy tangle of our joyful limbs

The sculpture of your arching back beneath my trembling touch
Your drifting hand, lazy traced across my cheek

I hunt at night for the dream of you, to feed my soul
I hunger for the moments when the universe dissolves & we float untethered, alone, together
Consumed in our feast

© Alfa Fido 2013