A Thousand Little Deaths

a passionate poem dedicated to the "little death" as it's known in French.

Last night I dreamed 

I died a thousand little deaths

writhing in penetrating euphoria

to the rhythm

each one more exquisite than the last. 

 

The first one came as a shock

subtly grazing my body

a canvas  

written on

with mouth 

breath,

and fingertips. 

 

Slowly melting away 

dissolving into feeling 

as the last of the little deaths

rang through my body

leaving me aching 

numb and dulled. 

Reviews

[Crow]

Inspirational and stimulating, you have ensnared my psyche in your words.

[r]

This is amazing! Stunning, I love it. It's just so perfect, even though I wish it was long to hear more specifically about each of the deaths. I love the imagery, and the love the way you wrote how the first one

"came as a shock
subtly grazing my body
a canvas
written on
with mouth
breath,
and fingertips."

And I love the melting away, dissolving, part. How you were left numb and dulled. Dead? Pehraps.

I love this; it's beautiful and potent. (: