Himeros Poem by Khalid Alih

I never knew that burning
could be so gentle;
that there was something
in the carmine,
which had spoken
the conversation of the hands
you wrapped me with;

or the cherry mark behind your legs
that my lips have breath into,
and how zephyr ripped through
the fabrics of the universe
that rests upon your skin.

and for the first time,
I have become
utterly,
completely,
unwaveringly,
no longer my own;

and that my flavor
hides silently in pieces
between your teeth,
shrouded in the aroma
from your rouge
that lives dimly in my body,

for you were a rose of salt
that met my wounds,
and even without your thorns,
I still bled.

I still bled.