Sex and Violence

by Jolanta C. Biniek

Sometimes with you there comes a quiet night,
unlike the quiet night i move through on a hit
and i forget the danger, and the endless fight
and only know, tonight, our bodies fit.

When on a job i slice through night-time air,
a child of dust that claims another soul,
i cannot help remembering your skin, your hair,
as inexorably i'm moving towards my goal.

Your body moves below mine in the dark,
adrenaline and whiskey in your veins,
i smell of blood, my knife had hit it's mark.
now we're at rest, exhausted silence reigns.

Someday, i will admit to how i feel...
and somewhere, on a cold floor blood congeals.

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