All entries for Friday 18 November 2005

November 18, 2005

The Leech

It battens on
Sly insidious
Tugging, sucking at the heart
This leech-like thing, love.

Pull it off
Its maw still clings
And you tear at your flesh
To scratch it out.

The only way it seems
Is to burn it out
Cleanse with fire
But still you are sore.

Or wait for it to satisfy
Itself, feeding on you
Till you are drained
And it drops off of its own accord.

And yet, I have a mortal wound
The sickness of a poison dart
And the pressure of too much blood
Makes my heart race fit to break.

So here I wait
For my leech-lover
To share my sanguine passion
And let me breathe again.

November 2005

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