Your dress was plum;
although, my fantasies remember Maroon.
Dancing in God’s house, you moved like scripta,
and I burned like the sinner’s hands.
Had you blushed near me again, I was going
to hold it against myself.
Thrice removed
(grief-stricken) and held against him,
I am empty of you.
But not yet extinguished from your singe of interest,
of your reading me like The Price of Salt.
Wondering, suppose I call, if your
arrival would be the difference of a few vowels.
Divine intervention, master of my curiosity,
I spend my evenings drunk on forbidden fruits.
Pardon my chaos talking in triangles–
of lust’s longing in color–
our tortured poet already said it best.
Sep 15, 2024
Sep 15, 2024 at 4:27 PM UTC
Your dress was plum;
although, my fantasies remember Maroon.
Dancing in God’s house, you moved like scripta,
and I burned like the sinner’s hands.
Had you blushed near me again, I was going
to hold it against myself.
Thrice removed
(grief-stricken) and held against him,
I am empty of you.
But not yet extinguished from your singe of interest,
of your reading me like The Price of Salt.
Wondering, suppose I call, if your
arrival would be the difference of a few vowels.
Divine intervention, master of my curiosity,
I spend my evenings drunk on forbidden fruits.
Pardon my chaos talking in triangles–
of lust’s longing in color–
our tortured poet already said it best.
