Fucking you is like walking on coals;
I move forward, feet tender,
And I, tenacious,
Your hand inside of me,
A slap to my chest and I open.
My heart is in a cave,
The cave deep and dark,
My heart a red pounding spot,
Revealed, as you come crashing through.
I open my mouth, my cunt, my palm,
And the past roars out,
Dying lovers, last fucks, and tears,
Shine from my body,
Beacons.
There is too much for me,
These stories are a light,
They blind me and I flinch away,
I turn my head, my heart, my hand,
They illuminate you and the now and past.
A slap to my chest,
And I am cleansed,
Of the cloud of grief that lives in the red spot of my heart.
Placing each foot flat on these coals,
We fuck.
Avery Cassell 
you are a very good poet! Intense imagery!
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Thank you. And thank you for commenting. I’m really glad you like it. Writing is such a solitary act of creation, and I often cannot judge the results.
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