Sometimes
my lungs
are animals full of
rage.
Enduring
the silence.
Keen for him.
And keen for the naive.
Love has a way
to make you feel
like unloved creature.
Cursed with too much
beauty and filth.
Violent and untamed.
An animal without a heart.
And that’s when you leave
the battlefield.
Hopefully,
covered in your lover's
meat and blood.