Poetry of sorts: That one wild summer

That one wild summer
I will never forget that one wild summer.
Sharp and fresh as a blade of grass,
Cutting pale skin,
A single drop of blood trailing in its wake.
Can anything ever touch it?

"All comparison is lovelessness",
Says Teresa of Aquila.
What would she know of simple human passion?
What would she know of forbidden messages,
Of jumping in the car, abandoning work
At a single word from him.
Arriving at his door,
Moist,
Breathless,
Scared,
Aroused already by his words.
What's it going to be, my darling slut?
Unbearable sweetness?
Delicious cruelty?

You are asking me to be a saint,
Not to recall the sharp flavours of that summer, 

Asking me not to miss
Every second of that pure wild existence.

Sometimes I think you ask too much.
You say you ask for my own good.
But I know good,
It's not what you think.

Poetry: Dark Angel

Dark Angel

Who were you?

Just some figment of my imagination?

I don’t know.

If only,

If only I knew.

It was as though the shadows from the deepest corners of my soul

Came to life

To walk the earth,

Just for some brief time,

Became flesh,

Became warm skin, and bones, and lips, and hair.

Sometimes I think

I fell in love with my own creation,

Only saw what I wanted to see.

Who were you?

What did I see in you?

Was it even real?

Or was it altogether different?

Did you show me something of you,

No one had ever seen?

Not even you.

So that in the end we were

Two dark angels meeting in the night.

Nothing left now

But the whisper of wings,

Receding in the distance.