evil, evil thoughts--
circling 'round and 'round about,
and what's a girl to do?
every word is a new sin,
original even in its repetition,
holy even in its damnation.
and you--
my saint of saints,
my demon of demons--
hide in the center of the world,
but you do not fit there.
you belong in my center,
hollow and hot and wet
with want, with need
of you.
only you.
always you.
i am lost
or, at best, losing.
call me, my lover,
out of this hell.
summon me, my saviour,
down to your side.
for up, i will come
then down i will go
to stoke and savour
the taste of your passion.
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