Desire is only funny,
When it's gone.
Diluted to only water,
Where when tasted,
You feel refreshed,
and not disgusted.

My desires remain,
and when rage boiled,
They didn't evaporate,
But turned into syrup...
Concentrated,
And gross to taste.

Gross to talk about,
***** to remember,
And painful to the tongue,
Where once you were,
Essence sitting,
And I swallowed...

More than once.