If you wish to kill me,
you should do it softly.
And then proceed to love me
like silk, like rough hay.
And don't you drive away,
like you did once, twice,
leaving me with only the
impression of a soft hug.
(Shoulders, heaving)
And left me wanting,
screaming, crying, hitting,
dying, dying, wanting;
if that's not love enough,
then I don't know what is.
Ballerina With Fins
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/darling-4/
