yearning (Remove filter)
Burnt
When you lit that cigarette
The bones of me shuddered,
The blood in me halted.
What I wouldn’t do for you to light my flame with your lips....
Because I’ve had men tell me that my lipstick tastes of petrol,
That my mouth lights fires,
That my tongue causes explosions
And of course, that opening my legs is the best way to put a fire out.
But this fire begins at you...
Sunday 28th February 2016 4:50 pm
Recent Comments
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on Haiku for 2025 [No. 31. Brussels Boycott]
9 minutes ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on Civilities
1 hour ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on Stats (To be continued)
2 hours ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on Sonnet: Imigh Hotovely, Imigh Smál Damnaithe! Imigh is Póg mo Thóin! [Out Hotovely, Out Damned Spot! Out and Kiss my Arse!]
2 hours ago
Rolph David on The Anchorage Gambit – Reflexive Control
2 hours ago
Graham Sherwood on Stats (To be continued)
3 hours ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on Tikumtok
3 hours ago
Stephen Gospage on August 2025 Collage Poem: A Cut Above
3 hours ago
Nigel Astell on August 2025 Collage Poem: A Cut Above
10 hours ago
John Coopey on I SHAN’T ALWAYS BE LOVELY
12 hours ago