literature

Untitled Desire

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zareen-b's avatar
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Literature Text

I want to go within.
Without the ramblings of rumpled mattresses, without the clatter of the moonlight as it splashes, zigzag along my whitesheeted bed. I want to go deeper even than the softness of pillows. Deeper than the keys of memory or time. Deeper than light, straight into the heart of the darkness.
I want to go within.
I want every stripe of this silver-barred body. I want every rosebud in this garden, dripping dewdrops.
Call me a vandal, but I want to tear your beauty to shreds and have it fall, snowflake-light, melting, all over me.
I want to claw my way to your heart, you fool, when you ask me why I look at you as I do. Over the five-o-clock shadows on your cheeks, over the fences erected by your muscles when you lift me - higher!! - mid-sentence, to music. Over that smile that hides the sadness of a thousand happinesses remembered.
I want to climb over all these walls and make my way - like a thief in the night, - to the innermost part of your silent, sleeping heart. And there, I want to start a blaze. Let the whole city burn to ashes. Let the gardens blow away in steam-kissed winds. Let everything mist over, haze up, fall down. Let it burn, I say, if that is the only way out of those walls. Steam-kissed, on the back of a rosebud tinged wind.   
I want every stripe of that silver-barred body in my room tonight.
I want your mouth.
Let your mouth be my doorway, spirit-lover.
I don't believe there is anything as wild and downright honest as the need for another person. And not necessarily the need for their body - but the desire to possess - for whatever fleeting moment - an intimacy with their humanness.
Oh c'mon, I hear you say: Sex is just sex. He fancies her, she fancies him. So what. Give them a room and get it over with.
This is not what this is about. This is SO not what I am talking about.

This is about something altogether different: an even more dangerous predator: the desire to actually wield Love whilst you are making it.
The hope that what you have made is not something to while away the time with, but rather, that in dissolving your walls, your fears, the weight of memory, into the warm hands of another caring human being, you have participated in dissolving time itself.
© 2006 - 2024 zareen-b
Comments5
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thecherrybombshell's avatar
This howled, and whispered, and moaned.

I fell into this poetry like a pool, the moment I read "clatter of moonlight". But it doesn't even feel right to single that out, the way it all waterfalls, the catalytic emotions and wordplay... It's just so full, and ripe, and I felt like I swallowed it all it one mouth-watering bite.

Thank you.