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By Raluca: an exceptional wordsmith.

A WRITING AFFAIR

Hand me my matches, my dear,

And let’s burn to the ground,

In sensual fury

And self-gratification

Instant satisfaction

Lust and desire,

Fire, my dear,

Let’s burn to the ground.

 

You may not know the purpose of

–     or meaning to –

The flames of the heart,

But stay with me, dear, and you’ll soon know enough.

 

Light of my life,

Fire of my loins,

Burn my dear,

Let’s burn to the ground.

Eaten by flames,

Echoed by mirrors,

The sparkle and light,

The living and dead.

 

Never fear, sweetest, the voices of mouths

And the eyes in the heads

Which hint at disaster;

But marry the fire

Lost in temptation

Translation mistaken

For affection galore

 

Forget not the matches

The lighter of dire

Lights in the distance

Exhaust fumes of the world

So bow to the ground

Say goodbye to your mother

Give me your…

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