Strange Love


The strangest thing

we have is love.

Garter on her thigh,

my hands testify

to all that I

would do for her.

Another resurrection session.

Late night

asking questions.

“Do, or die?

What would I prefer?”

Hell is an unquenchable desire.

Fire lit

and unrequited.

Burned by the touch,

from bare wire,

lightning arc from fingertips,

to a whole world ignited.

Such as it is,

I am unworthy.

Just another dirty beggar

in your way.

Asking for your pity,

or your mercy,

when I deserve neither,

I’m afraid.


by pure essence of you.

Captured by the gaze

of your eye.


by the presence of you,

is the way

that I would choose to die.

Love is a malcontent.

A whirlwind heart.

A tempest inside,

tearing us apart.

The flesh cannot contain

the endless words

that claim

our souls.

We were never in control

from the start.

One look,

hooked me

like gravity.

One touch,

set me to burning,

like the Sun.

Love makes

strange creatures of us all,

and I

am one.



DJR – 2023

Leave a Reply