Passion

Makes petals grow from my skin
flowing out into bloom
I will see their beauty
when the flowers grow out
from two tone roots
seen from the surface.

Feel the ecstasy when I am held to heat
flesh that moves and rejoices
the message, relief, that ripples and subsides
something within follows and dies
waiting for the act to be repeated
waiting to be resurrected
waiting to begin again
seeing the beauty in pain
majesty stripped bare
feeling made flesh made raw.

This is passion
not love, nor caring, not even desire.
It is a beast with open maw,
teeth ready to rip,shred,mar.
It demands to be heard
it is wanting nothing
it is merely obeyed.
A cruel and true master, obeyed.
It burns within, white hot flame,
creation and destruction potent.
And I let it destroy me
repeatedly.

I must kick the habit,
yoke the fire and
become my master's master.
Hope all it destroyed lies
in ashes that will light again.
A phoenix waiting to burst alive,
the epitome of passion,
to recreate all I have lost
to be never burned again.

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