Manuscript margins— marginalize meaning
before you meet its depth; anarchy as this—
:find the ruin, ruin what you find…
Morbid; more bid than belief, we bet on doubt;
still, win or doubt— look at it without flinching,
let it look back; open-heart lips speaking...
Tastes of cigarette ember— kissing slow;
lips like gasoline; lean in; meaning catches.
LIT— fire in short, literature in flame;
write me where it burns…
leave me unnamed.
Mar 29
Mar 29, 2026 at 12:49 AM UTC
Manuscript margins— marginalize meaning
before you meet its depth; anarchy as this—
:find the ruin, ruin what you find…
Morbid; more bid than belief, we bet on doubt;
still, win or doubt— look at it without flinching,
let it look back; open-heart lips speaking...
Tastes of cigarette ember— kissing slow;
lips like gasoline; lean in; meaning catches.
LIT— fire in short, literature in flame;
write me where it burns…
leave me unnamed.
A dark, intimate reflection on how meaning—like desire—is often dismissed, doubted, and then suddenly ignites, blurring the line between language, emotion, and touch.
Request permission to use this poem