TITLE: The Fever By Samuel Connelly 06/13/09 |
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I am sick with the sickness of lovers.
When I applied a wet rag to my heart it
sizzled. It is passion, I feel.
My breath is hot
My eyes are glassy
My lips are chapped
In daring to look into the mirror
I see the symptoms all over my
face. It is the fever.
My throat is dry
My heart beats ravenously
My body sweats
You are the cause of my
condition, my beautiful pain,
my hurting, lovely, pleasure
My tongue is swollen
My head pounds
My mouth will not stop smiling
It is the fever
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