Nov 3, 2021
2 min read
The Fields Are Rife for Passion’s Delight
A Prose Poem
love melts, simmering on our tongues like passion’s last rites, till we’re craving more than just the flesh of another body thrumming in threads of heartbeat fluster
your kiss destroys the walls inside me, crumbling down to the marrow of all those secrets I sought to hide in the darkest reaches of my being — and I am cracked open, just another…
