What magician’s hands can soothe the weals of love?
No ice can cool the fire-tracks laid by passion,
My heart-blood runs and nothing can staunch the flow,
I am cut too deep.
Dear affection has laid a whip to my back,
Which I embrace with such a fierce and fearsome joy
As would seem to claim my consciousness and life
By its kiss of pain.
Your presence has overtaken everything –
I can no longer eat, I desire no sleep
Though parched I stare at water, never drinking,
Keeping love’s sharpness.
So terrible is this addictive wanting
It comes between me and all my waking thoughts,
I trace the road of these loving welts and weals,
And they lead to you.
Oh the depths of you, oh your geography,
You, my world, the very sky above my head –
What madwoman would want to be healed of you?
I treasure my weals!
Author notes
Verse form: Sapphic
Written February 14th, 2006
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Shake - you do what you want to do on a Sunday, and I'll do what I want to do!
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This was captivating to read and another wok that can be treasured by many! I like your style and this was whipped into shape nicely. I like the picture at the top. At first I thought it was a woman in high heels and holding a fishing rod, guess it's because it is Sunday and I'd rather be fishing. I liked this a lot! The Shaker
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Thanks Melodies and Sylvyr {thinks of flowers and butterflies}
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different and definitively thought provoking hon.. i like it.
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Have you read my poem, "Strangely Addicted?" Yes, it is addiction.
It makes you more than slightly mad. I think it is a built-in human feature. How do we get through our days? Try thinking about flowers and butterflies. -
It's not every BDSM poem gets written in classic Sapphic form, Dougie. Thank you for your comments.
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great write..very classy indeed but still very erotic...dougie..
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