Naked Dance

That dance in the dark.
Naked.
Sacred.
Fired more than a spark.
Your tongue,
We clung
In desperate release.
We ached
And quaked
Until the rhythm did cease,
Of a quenched love.
Above
A candlelit ceiling.
Feeling
Spent.
Lent
Was ecstasy.
Deep in my memory
To heat my cold nights,
My heart yearned a shooting star.
Emotions crash,
Swords slash
Leaving a lovers scar
- Of exquisite pain.
Now I rack my brain.
How to take a train
And go back.
There's a crack
In the sky.
Plese take a chance
And merge with me.
Where we can die.
In naked dance.

by Kevin East

Comments (7)

This poem is like my life terrible miserable, worthless. End it Now
thank you 'lina v' (comment box below) for posting the other part of the poem..
ahaha alex gets it sort of
Ahaha@Alex. There's nothing better than poetic snobbery. For god's sake, get over yourself.
I'm pretty sure Bukowski wrote a poem in which he lambasted people for printing versions of poems that HE wrote the way THEY would have liked to have written them. Yuri, you ought never to be allowed to read poetry again. And whomever submitted this, you are the Bane of artists everywhere including myself. When you have a child, I shall come round and chop off a couple of fingers and perhaps a toe, then put out an eye and brand its chest with my initials. Then you'll understand.
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