Backwards

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Backwards

I don't feel any blood
Running through my veins;

The pleasure is so embracing that
I could get rid of myself.

There are no more tears running down from my eyes;
Even in sweet times,
I can be dishonest with my life.

I do not try to catch the fire with my fingers;
My soul would be so weak
If the heat burns me up.

I will never die among plastic sirens;
I have wandered centuries ago to know that,

Love can be twisted
If we drink up from the wrong cup,

And a kiss can be betrayed
If we don't learn how to observe
With our heart.

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Poetry is either something that lives like fire inside you or else it is nothing, an empty formalized bore around which pedants can endlessly drone their notes and explanations.

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dante1208’s Poems (45)

Title Comments
Title Comments
Encounter 1
Holiday 0
Crystal Walk-In 0
Cabalistic 0
Trinitarian 0
Winter vision 0
Black Elixir 0
Temple 0
Earth and Serpent 0
Triad 1
On a muse in gray 1
In the rain 0
At three o’clock 1
Octopus 2
A dark sign 1
Fear 0
On a spiral wave 2
On a naked caprice 0
Being pure 0
Glimpses 0
An Obstacle in the Air 0
Reinsertion 0
A purple meditation 0
Reflections 2
On a gray Friday 1
Rejoicing! 0
Solo 0
A poem to still be encouraged 0
A poem to be recited 0
Soul and Insight 1
Living on an Inner Temple 0
A Morning Display 0
Heart and Intensity 0
Across your Purity 0
Dance on Pleasure 0
Between Sensuality and Divinity 0
Galleon 1
On a way back 0
Turning on Purple 0
The Red Voice's Conscience 0
Backwards 0
On a Beach Road 0
About the Old Hope 1
Alchemy of Lust 0
A Fast Conscience 1