Why loathe the color sweet?
As he lies besides me, watch him sneak
sugar cubes and huge amounts of wine
And red, to fluster me.
Imagine me obeying. I have beauty to unleash.
And fairness?
O, to lie in a field, mirror in hand,
reflecting
His hand on my maiden flames. Not fair!
Not fair!
All I ask is for a little heat. Like hardened honey
under fire. This is why I’ll drown.
O, woe!
I’ve been robbed of my senses.
Don’t worry, love.
They crystallize inside me.
— Ivana Kilibarda