[throb50]

Inside"
by A. A.
"I wrote poems inside of her with my fingers.
Our story began with her scream.
And ended with her soul on my lips.
" — "



“Love Sonnet XI”
by Pablo Neruda

I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair.

Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets. Bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me, all day I hunt for the liquid measure of your steps.

I hunger for your sleek laugh,

your hands the color of a savage harvest, hunger for the pale stones of your fingernails, I want to eat your skin like a whole almond.

I want to eat the sunbeam flaring in your lovely body,

the sovereign nose of your arrogant face, I want to eat the fleeting shade of your lashes,

and I pace around hungry, sniffing the twilight,

hunting for you, for your hot heart, like a puma in the barrens of Quitratue.