When the pleasure of love becomes the pain of anger. |
Anticipation builds with the touch Of your fingers as they trace Paths carved in my skin By the sound of your voice. Your love breathes passion Into the heart of my soul. Exploding there, in my soul, The pleasure of your touch Thrills with ecstatic passion, Lifting me above the slightest trace Of reality, giving voice To the electricity that is my skin. But, underneath your skin, A storm brews in your soul. I hear it tremble in your voice, Feel it slide into your touch. And in your heart it begins to trace The outline of a dark passion. You look on me with strange passion. Your breath scorches my skin, As the ashes of love leave no trace, Of the path to my soul. Gentleness exits your touch As you dig trenches of pain with your voice. An element of hate enters your voice. A white-hot, unrelenting passion To hurt, propels your touch. Burning holes through my skin In search of my soul, It devours all but a trace. As your words begin to trace Angers path, your voice Bruises what's left of my soul, Reprimanding the passion That once electrified my skin. Leaving me to cringe from your touch. Anger destroyed every trace of passion That love's voice once etched in my skin, And the pain left my soul cold to the touch. This poem is written in aTBellestina form . TBellestina is a modified form of the Sestina develpoed by Texas Belle for the SLAM contest |