Sin

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The following collection of poems touch on passion, fear, reality, desperation and pain. Not everything is a sin, but you decide.

 

Sin

I am in love

with sin.

The passion within

erupts like a volcano,

the tidal waves

of tears

spill over my

lashes onto my

cheeks, down my neck,

between my

breasts.

I am in lust

with your heat

massage your feet

squeeze your hands.

The hurricane storms through

my heart,

the drool drops

like an instant

mudslide–

 

See me

I saw him today

looking broken,

beaten.

I wanted to go to him,

hug him, but I can’t touch

his body anymore.

I tried talking to him

soul to soul

and I studied his eyes,

hoping for recognition.

He hurts beyond my voice.

His pain burns front and center.

I reach out with my fingers

and wish he could

see me.

 

 

I don’t know fear

I don’t

know fear.

I move through

my pain

like a worm

in his dirt,

effortless,

at home,

 almost in love

with his

given life.

 

 

Impressions

Subtract 20 years

I hear the howl

see your shiny smile

your fingers flex with

talent and experience.

“Don’t shed one

be a big girl

I love you

don’t you know?”

Christmas came

and still no workout bag

Santa gave him

an excuse instead.

I remember the

final time we punched

in sibling fun.

I knew your skin

like the sizzling street on my feet.

Add 20 years

I still know your fist

I wear it every day

My arm bears its impression.

Me in you

I have seen the darkness

and laughed in peace.

I have come to know

your charcoal soul.

The flames that once

licked your charm have

made friends with my pain

and they mingle and sizzle

and eerily laugh at my attempts

to escape.

I can see no one who isn’t near me

and I can smell nothing I can’t taste.

You count as my need, my craving

my passion.

You are me

me in you.

 

 

Love is not

Love is not

truth

not the little

white lie I told

you yesterday.

It is my broken

soul

my dead dreams

the fear of the prison I

created when I’m

with you.

 

 

Open Scar

I connect with life

under deep conditions

the balm of pain

like sea salt

in my open scar.

Never in my face

can I take the

heat I suffer.

All for you

I connect with

your heart,

may it bleed in time

with mine.

 

 

Nothing

From the sky

I sit alone

staring

at nothing.

I, a speck,

a leaf

brittle, brown.

I try to touch

but nothing.

Feel at me

I wish for one

beat

one string of hope.

I laugh. No sound.

Nothing.

 

 

Black

The mists form.

The mouth’s skeletal form

beckons its celestial finger.

The smoke reeks and I

can’t breathe. I wish,

I scream for solitude, for the

orange colored pipe to burn

my chest, to carve a way

into my lifeless soul.

My decaying breath

on your helpless face

I cringe when I blink.

The blood flows from the

blackest crow–that’s me.

 

 

Trapped in a jar

My fight with time

is endless.

Sometimes I don’t believe

in change.

Doesn’t everything really

remain the same?

All my dreams, wishes

and hopes

are trapped in a jar

I can’t open.

Freedom is fear

and I won’t turn

the lid

I’m not ready

to feel so many

foreign things.

My wings haven’t

matured yet.

Fear is freedom

if I can taste it

and smell it

I can own it.

One quick turn

for me–

 

–All poetry by Patricia Kirsch

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