The night is a pyre
that preys on desire
but my heart, aflame,
yields not to the claim
of this wanton fire.
No touch can profane
my love or its pain
and all this burning
scars not my yearning;
I want him again.
Maim me or tame me,
blame me and shame me;
these longings won't die,
'tis in vain, the try-
he shall reclaim me.
No comments:
Post a Comment