Saturday, August 15, 2015

MAY IT BE SO...


LET ME WHEN

LETTERS NO LONGER LEAP AND DANCE

FROM THE ALPHABET ONTO MY NERVE-SKIN PAGES;



LET ME WHEN

WHISKEY NO LONGER WARMS AND WHISPERS

IN WIT-WHETTED WORDS OF WILLING WOMEN;



LET ME WHEN

THE STING AND SALT OF A STRANGER'S TEARS

CAN NO LONGER LACERATE MY HEART;



LET ME WHEN

FLESH SWEETER THAN MY OWN

NO LONGER WRITHES AND REVELS UNDER ME;



LET ME THEN

HAVE DIED BEFORE THEN.


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A SELF UNSHARED SHRIVELS.