My heart is bothering me again.
I'm years from needing surgery, but sometimes I wonder how soon it'll happen, with the way I live.
Since I was sixteen, I remember my parents:
"V, you're running yourself into the ground again. Stop before you get sick."
And I would tell them that I knew, that there were just a few more things to do before I would get enough sleep, stop drinking so much coffee and energy drinks, that I would stop going all the time.
There's just so much to do, so much to experience.
I don't want to miss anything.
About Me
- Poetry of Flesh
- Los Angeles, CA, United States
- Love Sonnet XI
Pablo Neruda
I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair.
Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets.
Bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me,
all day I hunt for the liquid measure of your steps.
I hunger for your sleek laugh,
your hands the color of a savage harvest,
hunger for the pale stones of your fingernails,
I want to eat your skin like a whole almond.
I want to eat the sunbeam flaring in your lovely body,
the sovereign nose of your arrogant face,
I want to eat the fleeting shade of your lashes,
and I pace around hungry, sniffing the twilight,
hunting for you, for your hot heart,
like a puma in the barrens of Quitratue.
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