Hemlock short poem

The night was old, sans us; we’re buried within ourselves-
We met after decades, the definite cause for the arousal (and virility);
A night of talks, old memories and kisses…
Garbs flew while she pushed me hard-onto the pillows;
Eyes like a predator, she snatched everything from me.
I was hers as she was mine…

Misty, deceptive and cunning as ever, I let myself be taunted-
By her, you and me-one entangled mass,
Foreplay is not an option here, never was…
Her nails dug deep, my bare skin bled,
She was satiated.
I was hers as she was mine…

The morning dawn kissed her whole, my babe in golden,
I contemplated her, devoured her fleeting vision with everything at my disposal,
Between fits and hallucinations, I saw her pass away.
She was long gone, leaving me impregnated with her thoughts…
“See you someday” somewhere her epitaph read-
I was hers as she was mine…

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I Am Drunk On The Hemlock

I Am Drunk On The Hemlock short poem

My lips are black, I am drunk on the hemlock, preferred by you – my life. I am still in love with pain. What not, the trial tried to break my resistance. I will walk on my hands paraplegic legs