Into My Memories
By
trinket

 

The death of passion, cruel and sharp. 

Back into my memories,  it’s terrifying. 

The bitterness brings too much sorrow. 

All my soul within me, punished. 

The aching want within me, looking,

Retreats to my memories, craving. 

On that day my soul grew hungry,

It threw its ghost against the grief. 

While I pondered, smashed and shaken,

Mind straying to my lusty affliction. 

The ambrosial addiction aching,

The wailing grief is gutting. 

My desire, I could not awaken,

I crave the unashamed urge. 

All my soul within me, searching,

The love is dying, dying, dead. 

Back into my memories, obliterating,

I threw my agony upon the floor. 

I screamed “I need passion’s light”. 

The angry anguish aborting,

The dead distress, dying. 

In there stepped an insatiable light,

And so you came, gently wanting,

My passion ignited, fiery lust.

Back into my memories, throbbing. 

My painful affliction, sated fully. 

Passion’s death, a fleeting memory.

 

© Trinket 2021

 

 

 

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