Friday, July 29, 2016

Begging

I’m not
going to--go
begging...
                   for that
                   sensation
                   of flesh.

Instead
I cower,
Sleeping..
               Waiting,
               For your touch.
               Your coldness.
                                        Your breathlessness.
                                        Your love.

The flowers are wilting,
In the world among the headstone.
Where the angels above are statues,
Asking for your atone.

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