If you meant it
when you said
that I make you feel
warm inside,
then I’d say you leave me
smoldering.
An ode to destruction,
striking perfidiousness.
The very thought of you
cripples me beyond belief.
Disdain for you
dangles from my neck
and burns retched holes in my skin.
If you meant it
when you said
that I make you feel
warm inside,
then I’d say you leave me
lustrous.
Any attempt to describe you
would render me loquacious.
You are the feeling of
kicking high on a swing,
and a coffee break on an Autumn afternoon.
I feel rejuvenated and renewed
each time I breathe your name.
You could crush
or compose me
in one moment’s time.
You could curse
or control me,
love or
fuck me.
Just never let
me go.