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Feed Me

I shouldn't want to
but I want to devour him;
to taste of him
to possess him
to obsess about him.
Shouldn't do that.
But I want to;
I do.

And there is no let-on-
you would not know
that it is so
that it is
this way with me.
I don't let on.
I hide it.

But it is a flaming hide;
an internal storm
which rages in the quiet-
one
only I can hear.

If its love-
and I think it is-
it is more;
it is hunger;
wanting to push up so close
so there is nothing but one left
a melting;
only this will do.

Only this will be enough
to sate;
to make me put life's napkin down
and say
I've had my fill
I'm satisfied.

Meantime I can smell
you walking by-
each time
I whet;
my appetite.

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