Do you mean it

by your ‘thousand year thirst’

that I would need to quench?

Do you mean it,

by your ferocious wanting

of me, every inch of me?


When you say love,

what do you see?

What do you ‘really’ see?

A temptress?

A queen?

Or a slave?


What really do you mean by love?

How do you measure it?

Do you measure it at all?

How do you name it?

How do you name me?


Look beyond me.

Look beyond the confident laughter.

the fiendish smile,

the barely breathing arousal.

Look beyond the rebel princess,

who doesn’t seem to want

or need anything.


Look beyond the face

you’re so fixated with.

Then tell me how do you mean,

when you say love…


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