Your Poetry Is Poison

Your poetry is poison

Your poison is poetry

It is intended to kill

It is designed to revive

I am at loss of words

Yet I find them all

When I am intoxicated by it

I feel I’m dying while alive

You say how come poetry is poison

If poison is something bad?

I’d say poetry is poison as venomous as love

For love is something to die for

Yet love is toxic cliche

But what else can Men say

If there is only passion behind every

Spasm of lust, spasms as those of venom

Preparing your body to die.

Your poetry is venom

Paralyzing my heart

Giving me asphyxiation

That I cannot stand

You are life

You are death

A black rose in Winter

White Ashes in Spring

You burning ice!

You soothing fire!

Tell me what was my mistake!

Tell me what I did right!

You never speak

For the fumes inside your mouth

Kill

They kill with poisoned darts

Die! Live! Suffer! Enjoy!

I do not know if my mistake

Was to kiss your Poetry book

Or was it right to read it?

I just remember I died the day I kissed you

And now I live infected with your poison

Dying every instant.

DA 2015