Tuesday, 18 July 2017

Poem. Burning skin

The rooms chilled, from the open windows,
and it licks her burning skin.
In this cell, removed from the constricting identity
of her primary life.
She harbours another, a faraway wish,
Don't come in here, to this obscure place
no one belongs but the girl with burning skin
hidden away in a Sin.
and I watch from the doorway
toes on the threshold
for I am not her, geminate dreams
We are separate, in two
for while I stand on the threshold
she is in there, thinking about You.

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