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At least I'm not boiling bunnies
by Meghan HelmichLoving you fills me with a sour fire
that scalds the back of my tongue
when it comes up my throat in the morning.
I dream of setting loose my passion
until it wraps itself around the necks
of everyone you ever loved
and wrings the sunlight from their veins
in hushed spurts all over my shoes.
You will understand
that rage is the heart
of my feelings for you
and can never be sated. 12/15/2011 Author's Note: But hey, there's always tomorrow. I've been meaning to use that crock pot.
Posted on 12/15/2011
Copyright © 2024 Meghan Helmich
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Gabriel Ricard on 12/16/11 at 01:29 PM I love the concept of a sour fire. I've never heard it put like that before. Your creativity is an astonishing gift for us to enjoy. |
| Posted by Sal Haefling on 12/16/11 at 10:09 PM wow-eee...i crave for more of this one... |
| Posted by Lori Blair on 12/17/11 at 10:38 PM Your insight is as strong as your delivery! Awesome words and write...thank you indeed! |
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