Sunday, March 1, 2015

the iron and the tears (I)

the unspeakable brutality of love:
my tangled hair wrapped round
his calloused hands
hot pain to the root of things

the first cut is the deepest
i feel the unseen blade
and flesh parts to a sea of red

he paints my lips
me, his scarlet whore
gory lipstick
like a slut to a dance
a vampire fresh from slaughter
and the salt seeps in
the iron and the tears
penetrate my pursed lips

until, drowning
and drowning
lungs and liquid
and there is endless love
endless brutality

the angle of the head,
the neck, the throat
the hand the holds
the burn, the throb, the gash

my chest aches,
will burst
go sigourney weaver
all over the carpet

drink, or die
his hands are rough
his voice
and i could live on it,

i am coughing, choking
drowning and drowning
and the pain goes on forever

he caresses my cheek
you can drink,
or you can die, khabeebta

like there is any choice
any choice at all.

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