Dacryphilia Poem by Shelby Barker

Inspiration is a fire
that burns not-bitter-but-sweetly, internally either
a heat or a hurt that feel identically
appealing to the dedicated,
and I am aroused with possibilities

of scars;
I hungrily float toward licking flames,
pulled in to scorching breath,
especially from such a mouth as yours
(Red and wet and beautifully
turned to a scowl):
I long to kiss your sorrow away
and into me, to feel less empty
as
all
writers
do, and, undeniably,
toxic tears on lush lips could be the death of me
but in death will be words…
made for the very best
of writings…