Astringent taste of your exuding sweat,
I lick from your oh-so-skillful fingers.
No more I need to run, to wait, to hate,
Just make my petals beg for a bite of stinger.
Astringent taste of tea, of sea, of time —
Captivating essences of liquids.
I let you be my spiritual crime.
Freedom comes, at last, to the sequence.
Astringent blood does not evoke remorse.
No more I cry. No need for absurd sorrows!
I don't ask you to protect.
Just close the door
For us to entertain my feast of horrors.
Astringent taste
© Copyright: Мария Баулина, 2015
Свидетельство о публикации №115102100748
Свидетельство о публикации №115102100748
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