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The Iris And The Flame

They talked to each other. Each with their own set of questions and replies. Each with a demanding want for a better understanding. They conversed. Neither stood accused or denied. Slowly did they try at first..., until again and again..., their lust overtook them, a wanting so badly they could never control it fully.

They pleased each other. They hurt each other. Each in their own ways and times. Each with a tender air of forgiveness and pain. They searched for their meaning. Neither ready to end it or falter. They came back to themselves..., more and more..., willing to strive for forever.

They stared upon each other. Each with their own set of worries and fears. Each with a saddening longing in their souls. They stalked each other. Neither was prey or hunter. They circled..., round and round..., like 2 hungry carnivores, desperate for the taste of each other's flesh.

They touched each other. Each with their own set of sensations and wonder. Each with a desire so deep and consuming in their hearts. They caressed each other. Neither being bereft of the need and want. Softly they touched...., over and over..., like lovers, desperate for each other's hands.

They loved each other. Each in the manner of Desire and Dream. Each with a Burning and Radiance. They laughed at themselves. Neither was jester or fool. She was his Muse and he was her Poet...., for ever and ever..., giving so freely it burned.

Burn me my love, throw me into the infinite fires of your embrace. Until I am scalded and singed to my core. I beg it of you.....

Burn Me !

TheHiker TheHiker 41-45, M 1 Response May 16, 2012

Your Response


Quite lovely...I am there watching you both circle and circle...You have a way with words. Simple words used effectively. Heartfelt. Eloquent. All this pain and anguish...You can use it to create this beauty for others. And it will express your pain like a wound that is purulent and is draining it's poison so it may heal. I love your poetry. Always. Do not stop.

I can't really ever stop. It's part and parcell with "My Curse". The rhyming never shuts off. You all get the simple glimpses. The rest gets buried in my secret books.