terça-feira, 19 de dezembro de 2017

Petite mort

If I am to die more than once,
let it be in your arms
and the sweetest trance
from which I don't recoil -
touch that soothes all turmoil
but also alarms.

If I am to want resurrection,
let it not be his, but mine
through sheer force of attraction
at the pace of a slow dance -
did you know you taste like wine?

If I am to feel alive,
with blood inside these veins,
let it be the one that reigns
for much longer than tonight;
you here, still by my side.

03/12/2017

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