Burnt Flesh

by Mortal Utopia   Apr 1, 2021

I could smell, through welling tears
the reek of sweat and clotted flesh
(mine or yours?), rotting, in jest,
almost of love, of beauty no less -
when I tried to push you away.

Off me. Off.

You squeezed me tighter, chained me so,
til darkness screeched into wheezing woes,
scraping wounds to the corners of... love?
(I do love you don't I? It'd make things easier.)

It's hard to tell in a dark room.

And our breathing got faster and faster
but for different reasons.

Everything I touched burned -
I'm sorry for burning you
I'm sorry for burning you
I'm sorry for (I'm sorry for burning you) burning you.

You'd apologise tomorrow (are you still burning?)
as we lean on each other, our pus-filled wounds touching.

I'd say everything is okay
as I licked burnt flesh off my lips.
It still tasted like you and the tears you drip.


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Latest Comments

  • 1 month ago

    by Poet on the Piano

    Had to nominate this. It's one of those poems that immediately made me uncomfortable, especially the way you address the pain. The apologies, the questions, the heaviness of feeling suffocated. I read it as a trauma in such a raw form, where you can't even begin to process it. Where everything is that rotting flesh and you say it's fine even though it feels like everything is ending. The poem made me feel the kind of lonely where, even though you have someone by your side, and you don't know who else would be there if not for them, it's wrong. The hurt is too deep. And the part about wondering if you love them, that it would make it easier, hit me the hardest. Because love shouldn't burn like that. Love shouldn't be the hot tears of sorrow.

    Really emotional and dark poem.

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