she often dresses for a dare
but in the corner she lies bare
not a grin nor a glare
she always wears a vacant stare
and on her lips she spells deceit
another record she could beat
not of the cold nor the heat
but around the bend she'll take a seat
she never hung around as much
as the borrowed girls or weathered such
her one true love became a crutch
and through desire she lost her touch
-
Author:
D (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: February 2nd, 2019 03:22
- Category: Surrealist
- Views: 32
Offline)
Comments3
a nice little poem with a slightly sad taint.... certainly enjoyed.... Neville
brilliant!
This verses describe a sad yet beautiful soul. Is that you? Beautiful poem! Just beautiful.
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