Room 102

I have swooped upon experiences,
With a tongue tip taste,
Swallowing them whole should
My curiosity be piqued one notch
Above the norm.

I have breathed out men like dust.

I have sated myself,
Stuffed myself,
Yet left them wanting more
As I smirked.

I have spied from great distances
Faces that intrigued me
And wordlessly brought them
Directly opposite mine.

I have feigned ignorance
In adolescence,
Then made pretences of knowledge
I did not possess.
I have grown into myself
And been only myself.

I have seared through men like white heat,
The swift passing leaving me unsure
If I have even left a mark.

I have excused myself with phoney pleas
Of ascetic needs.
I have shamed myself, once or twice,
With all too real pleas
For the status quo to remain in place.

I have yearned, hurt and fucked
Hard;
Gripped fat swollen dreams
And handfuls of hair
As reality ebbed like
Laughing oceans
From under me.

Each time,
Each sense in its entirety,
I have gulped it down.

But love,
Steadfast and reciprocal
Love,

That,

That eludes me still...

Anna Russell