The Wick of My Tongue

Your kiss was hot

and set the wick

of my tongue

burning

down my throat

to douse my heart’s

glow

in petrol.

Five alarms sounded

as the blaze melted

the steel of my spine

into a puddle

beneath me.

But, it’s fine,

because I poured

kerosene,

like wine,

into your Soul.


© CGT, 2018.

Talk to me.

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