What does your love feel like?
Is it soft and fluid
Or does it cloy on the teeth
Like a bloodied, boxer’s mouth?
Does it make the heart sick
With sweet, sweet sugarings
That spin and drip in sticky clouds
Or as dry as a vacillating savanna
Flecked with dead oases
And forgotten bone?
Is it warm and peaceful
Or does it retch
Like the last breath of a suicide?
© Mel Lampro
a
tiny
pink
quiver
of
life
clings
onto it’s sanctuary
as the sleeper
seals it’s destiny
with
every
heavy
breath
nosferatu
drains
it’s essence
it’s existence
denying any claim
on identity
on equity
assassin
© Mel Lampro / Previously published: Route 57, University of Sheffield Online Arts Magazine [2006].
My dead father’s razor waits
Like a discarded ticket to reunion
Dripping
Onto a dull, steel rail
© Mel Lampro
Streaked with tears and sweat
As the convulsive
Pulse
Of life
Ripples
Through the night-still air
Calling another soul
To see tomorrow’s sunrise
Crimson
Cascading pain
Cradles a noiseless scream
Black, black night
And then
Cockcrow
Our own aurora
Bursts into light
Glistening
Pink
And tight-fisted anger
© Mel Lampro / Previously published: Route 57, University of Sheffield Online Arts Magazine [2006].
D'emo 