Open up. Come in. The circus is over.
Shivering,
What has changed?
No words leave the crimson, swollen lips of solidarity,
The lips of imminent regret,
The lips of raw resentment,
The lips of ominous despair,
The lips of repetition,
The lips of momentary satisfaction. Value or validation?
Is her body her instrument of splendour?
Desperate for gentle caresses,
In need of tenderness,
Desperate to be thought of in memories. Any memory would do,
Longing to be more than solely the object of lust,
But a stranger to love.
The eyes, the porthole on the emptiness that is her soul,
With a question that pervades. Why?
Time is her betrayer,
Drugs, her lethal poison,
Love, her remote hope.
She wills her morbid fate
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment