Sometimes I just enjoy—
the slow burn, its flavor
electrifies me.
Your words are like that,
like a whiskey smolder scorching
and charring, searing and
scalding to a
blister-down. And I let them
linger as I swallow
them slow, ever so.
You say you’ve been numbed by
whatever external nuisances,
reduced to ashes your yen.
I wonder, what if amid
all that you’ve disclosed,
the impediments you merit for
making things dormant,
what if we meet robed only in
the imagination of there’s
nothing holding us back,
what if we share each other’s
skin-naked-raw, what if
my hard and steadfast manner
inspires your gush blush,
wouldn’t it be worth the try
to burn each other to a crisp?
©2009 j.a.o.a.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem