In Loosing Control
Your translucent metaphors
Make my blue words to become
Seeds of a mirrored thinking.
My words need your metaphors to scream,
While emerging from their painful cage.
They need to be washed
Again and again
In the Light downpour.
My words need to be loved, sweetheart,
Their mad escape happens
Sometimes, in haste.
You can make them to get out
By being so well
Mixed with hate and pain.
My words may bite your lips
In a love kiss, baby.
My words need the blood of your love.
Moreover,
They need to breathe your love
In loosing control.
Your words are leaves,
Sometimes,
Being carried off their knowledge to spread
Inside of me
For changing something-
Your very red, orange and yellow words,
Preceding the white silence of our winter.
Your words, my love,
Can become icy cubs slipping into my hot mouth
To kill my silence.
In-between dark and light,
In our secret dawns,
You make me miss their sweet touch
Inside of me
In making them to be
Love.
poem by Marieta Maglas
Added by Poetry Lover
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