By poetwench60@aol.com
Date: 2 November 1999

Famished

Hunger is that heat that rises to the skin from the soul---
No pale imitations, this glows golden to amber
And sits behind the eyes
to mock you when you glance in the mirror.

It's every damned cliche---
like I never knew what it was
to live on short rations
a heart held in stasis
is suddenly freed
and ravening with need.

It rumbles like an emoty belly
but food will not still it---
there is no distracting it,
with books or conversation.
It yearns for touch
and contact
and connection,
and will not settle for just any one---
NO.
It will starve itself
rather than settle for crumbs
rather than take less
then the hand that nudged it awake.

I will feed this wild creature.
before it consumes me
And I will bask in the golden glow
replete
by the nourishing of  a soul now filled
sustenance found only in your eyes.
I will sleep in your arms
and the sound of your heart
will lull mine to peace,
and stop hammering at my soul
with it's endless demands to be filled.



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