Monday 29 March 2010

Lust.




We couldn’t hear the wailings

of the betrayed nor the calm

breathing of the innocents.


Our heads thrown back

singing to Satan - you

wide open, over the baby

grand, on the stairs,

in your shower.


Always so hungry

never satiated - I adored

the taste of you -

the smell of you.


Much later we lay

rotting in the shadow

of our guilt.




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