POEM; MY HUNGER

 

                                                                      MY HUNGER

                                                                   another        poem 

My winter is your luck/your spring is my death/ my summer is yours/ your winter is mine/ my autumn is our doomed nightmare/ our fate is to walk away. / Something swallows our words and won’t let them escape it/ we both love in awkward dead languages we could never truly comprehend. / Not everything is about love/ most of the things I write are about hunger. / there’s life where hunger lies in the night/ so I always seek for your never-close-enough-to-reach body/ always close to kiss lips. / Hunger is the true essence of life. / And we are twisted/ upside down/ in and out. / We are shapes and unnamed colours. / And autumn is fading into winter/ I love winter/ more than I could ever love you. / The awfully gloomy/ rainy/ freezing cold days/ they are made just for me. / They raised you from hell just for me. / My spring is our deadly end/ and it is my greatest fear. / Your spring never sparked in me/ not like it glows on your paperwhite rigid soul. / There are many words left unspoken/ and my biggest sin is swallowing them all with greed. / And you love that/ don’t you? / I guess you can be the upside-down cigarette we call luck/ as we pretend to be soldiers/ and lovers who never touch each other/ but always find a way to speak about the shallow weather nouns. / This is not about you. / This is not about love. / This is about hunger/ and our roughly golden luck. / We lit it up/ and swallowed on a sore throat/ because it was the best way to honour our starving greed. / My winter/ your luck/ your summer/ my lover/ our spring/ my hunger.