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  • Writer's pictureNicolette Page


For your hot breath I’d welcome death.

For you promises Id break.

(I Have Broken).

Past virtue, I crave your touch.

This phantom I have created,

you the one I know.

In dreams you are near,

attainable, and I- unconfined, yearn.

Your visage is marble,

washed out, fair, cut gristle.


The kind that know power.

Strong and mean, transparent.

I see through your palest skin.

The color of beach sand

In hot sun.

Your eyes', too cold,

to be the ocean.

A specter -indeed- you are.

Who haunts my halls.

I eagerly call.

Please Come (in).

Teach yourself to me.

I wish only to learn you.

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