This living pulse that draws us closer
is the throb that then repels.
The tender touch turns toxin as
love’s hand caresses what it quells.

We orbit our lovers like debris around
a star that burns with contempt,
that aches with want, that breeds loathing
but always sustains desire.

The push-pull dance of bodies misbehaving,
and the yes embedded in each fevered no,
the stranger in the mirror that is familiar at home.

 

31/7/2025