You are cold
You are pure
Looking
Through my doors

Into my inner halls
You stride

Poised, sweet
Milky skin
Good enough to eat
Your breasts rise with your arms
Nipples harden to the touch
Succulent fruits that beckon

How can I resist
Your charms?

Open mouthed I drool
My spittle you catch
And feed upon
My kisses you devour
Even the juice of my fruit
Warm and sour

As I lie spent
You suck out the rest
My hopes
My dreams
My future schemes

All that remains
Of you and I

Withered
I lie
Have I nothing more to give?

Only love

You are cold
You are pure
Looking
Through my doors

Into my inner halls
You stride
Poisonous
And filled with scorn.

Upon my useless corpse
You have danced
Your dance
And in your hands you hold
That which remains
Weighing it up
Finding it too small

This will not do

Drop it from outstretched hand
Watch the breaking sound
The cracks
The pathetic puddles
That form
As that which was yours alone
Seeps forth And evaporates

You have danced your dance
And turn to leave
A crocodile tear
Upon your sleeve

Crying's good for you

You see

You are cold
You are pure
Terriers lay rats
At your door

Sustinence for your search
To find another lover

Would that he knew
What I know now
Now that you are gone

You are cold

He will freeze

© Copyright Kurt Loba 2004