Bite

Bitten lips whisper confessions

too shy for eyes to muster.

 

Truths seep from bite marks,

and hope falling gazes witness interest,

 

white laughter bleeds grey,

now an excuse to lean closer;

 

quietly sore mouths say promises,

praying to have to repeat

 

and warmly breathe into open ears,

no longer hearing, but dreaming

 

of furnace embraces and

teeth marks on necks,

 

that plead bitten lips

to kiss them better.

 

JS (c)

Day Twenty-Seven: Picture Poem

Wrap your wire tight around my heart,

and let the barbs sink into beating flesh,

and let the air become thick with silenced grief,

the tighter you constrict each stolen breath.

 

I remember when I first saw winding fences

as something more than metal safety nets,

but as traps for wild passion’s frenzies,

when I saw barbs protruding from your chest.

 

Only then I saw the razor wire

wrapping round your skull as fine as hair,

and slicing will as finely as the blades

that wound every person you let near.

 

And though you beg me dear to back away,

I would hold you closer than my heart,

to feel your blood flow with your arms around me,

and if I bleed, at least I dulled the barbs.

 

JS (c)