Poetry

Tied up.

Image

Feed me for I am starving.
I am carving the future with you, barring myself from the reality.
I like how you hurt me.
The way you spurt out those innocent words, assert your surreality.
Fill me with your fire.
Touch me and burn me with your skin like pyre, this desire so dire.
Haunt me with your words into a dreamlike murk.
I’m a masochist, I’ll smirk. Let ’em pervade and run and lurk.
Tell me you love her.
But the color of the fiery winter will never wither, like the liquor in a lover.
Feed me for I am starving.
For when I gave you the power to feed me, I also gave you the power to starve me.
And now I am tied with chains all around.
The question that lingers is
Do I want to be found or am I in love with the bound?

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