Broken Memoirs – Part Two

(Read Part One here)


The cigarette smoke floats in the air tonight.
I sit down and watch the war and the bombs
and the economy transpire inside my living room,
and the hysterical laughter of the neighbours
invade into my sadness
while I recollect the curves of your lips,
and the words from my mouth that you chewed away
with every second that you kissed me a little longer.


You were a demon in love,
with the heart of a monster
pumping insanities,
and dripping them onto me,
in the most diabolical of ways;
in ways I had never heard of;
in ways that hinged the tastes
of your mouth and your insides onto my tongue,
refusing to melt away
reminding me of the places I had been to,
places I had felt the tremors of,
places, like sacred shrines
of an unholy, heinous love.

Still the senses did not wane,
while I laid on my back
and you, over me,
our bodies throbbing like reckless fiends,
our eyes closed, our souls stripped;
madness slunk in our veins
pushing ahead in silent mayhem;
and memories of a rigid past
in between your tender earlobes and your sweaty thighs
wrapped around me,
like darkness in a cape of raging lust.


Your love would pierce its teeth deep into my flesh,
leaving bite marks and spit and wounds of a war;
and then you would walk away
with your victories and your defeats
and your soft surrenders
that crumbled their tally,
against my fury,
in you.


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