Of Killing Love

Love is a god, a boy,
A youth, a woman
Fair and dark, clad in stars,
They harken for your call.
Can you deny them? No.
Can you bind them? No.
No rules they know, the gods.
They laugh good-naturedly
At our follies.

To swear on love,
To sign for love,
To work, to plan
To cry for love.
To walk, to run,
To hide from love.

No code they made
To help us.
No words they gave
Defining love.
And changeable it is,
A momentary thing
It is to know love.

One thing there was the gods
Found right and so decreed it:
The surest way of losing love
Is to set rules to love.

© jsmorgane (Feb 2011)


I consume people, one after the other.
I run my fingers through their long blond hair,
And dye it black after I have chopped it short.
I let my eyes dwell on their high brow,
And penetrate the Sacred with my gaze.
I dive into blue eyes,
And ripple their clear, still surface.
I outline straight noses,
And expose their striving pride.
I rest my heavy hands against the cheek bones,
And bruise the soft skin.
I kiss your lips,
And bite them bloody to match mine.
I caress your fingers, one by one,
And drain them of their delicate strength.
I draw dark lines in your tender balms,
And read no future.
I tie your long and well-shaped legs,
To stop the carefree gait.
I twist your white neck
Because I cannot bear its beauty.
And when your body opens to my touch
I absorb your essence, lead you out
And ensure your extinction,
Before I move on.

© jsmorgane (winter 2004)