16 May 2011

I FORGOT CHOCOLATE, FORGIVE MY COFFEE




There was nothing casual,
the brief moment of desire I had.
Insidious, invasive lust.
Wanting greed.
My focus was absolute.
Debilitating.
Yet I knew my want,
the rich, bitter taste
an embrace of who I was
not who I would be.
As lust seized my body
and asked for more.
Sweet decadence,
not the childish romance,
bitter, like life in autumn.
When the strongest of summer survives.
I think, wanting without reservation
of the darkest pleasure.
I am not whole,
no I am not who I should be.
I am simply that,
which I want.
That of what I care,
and nothing else.

Sweet coffee.


by Barry Hurd

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