The pieces here aren’t really poems—I’m not doing as much poetry or reflection as I am just… writing. The Second Margins were meant to be more of a messy, experimental corner of my blog—something that might ignite my imagination and lead me back to poetry.

However, if I manage, I may begin sharing some poems separately as well—either parts from here or entirely new ones that feel a bit more presentable for a blog hop. Because, well, it seems I really enjoy writing and reading those too.

If I tried to write poetry about my bad cravings…

I think I am a violent being by nature…

My mother always told me that chocolate
(one of my favorite things on this earth)
is supposed to be indulged in slowly,
but I don’t think I got my mother’s patience at all.

I devour it whole—
my hunger cannot be satisfied with teasing.
I gorge on my passions.

And…

I crave you in ways
I have never craved another human…

If I were to elaborate and make a poem out of last two lines…

Late nights, wine,
the quiet hum of the TV,
your soft, soft voice
filling the spaces between us.

And my intrusive thoughts…

Why so quiet?
Do you really think I am interested in a TV show?
Spill your mind, darling.
My palms are placed upward for you.

Does that qualify as poetry, even?

Instead of a TV...

a street,
unknown to both of us—
dawn,
our hands finding each other
as if they always knew.

hmm…

What is it about holding hands that’s so important to a lady?
Palms get sweaty when you are anxious anyway.
Fine—you may hold my pinky...

love...

I don’t think I am well-versed

Perhaps I could indulge you
in a kiss or two,
but if we were to kiss,
I don’t think I could ever stop.

I would breathe you in whole.

About that last line…

Eating another person whole is probably cannibalism, and prohibited by law in most countries.
I wonder what about breathing someone in…

It sounds like soft violence...
Like devouring a favorite poem or two