The Bandage by C.P. Cavafy (translated by Evan Jones)
He said that he’d stumbled into a wall or fallen.
But likely the cut on his shoulder
was caused by something more serious.
He stood up abruptly, reaching for some
photographs on a high shelf
that he wanted to hold. The bandage
loosened and the cut opened.
I dressed his shoulder again, but was slow
in finishing, because it caused him no pain
and because I liked to look at his blood. That blood
was the source of my longing for him.
When he left, I found at the foot
of his chair a bloodied cloth, cotton,
a cloth that looked ready for the rubbish bin
and that I took to my lips
and held there for a long time —
the blood of longing on my lips.
Source: Poetry Daily
I felt an electrical charge in my body when I first read this poem years ago. I've never seen desire so nakedly captured—to want someone so much that you want even their blood. During certain times of my life, I have felt the "blood of longing." I sometimes think all I have is my longing, my endless aching.
"Shame" by PJ Harvey
I'd jump for you into the fire
I'd jump for you into the flame
Tried to go forward with my life
I just feel shame, shame, shame