Do read this lovely blog.It will turn you into a nice lover <

Part-broken, Part-whole

 

 

I never forgot your smell,
or how soft your cheek was;
like tender coconut flesh.
How soft your cheek was,
when I dared to push my lips against it.

I never forgot how
my back pressed against the wall.
Green, cold, flaky paint.
I remember trying to remember the moment
the hot flush of love against the cold of the wall.
The memory lives, grows, sears.

It is a fever. You shudder, you sweat.
You want to lie down, you need to sit up.

Yes, a fever. A fire that’s burning me up.
A fire that won’t listen to reason.

I will be your phoenix, you can be my arsonist.

Scarlet lips to burn you, flushed cheeks to burn you.
Here, inside of me, is a living arsenal.

A veritable, flammable woman;
you will keep me alive with flames of longing.

That first spark has grown,
brighter now…

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