She had that
doggy style lust,
bent and broke;
taking life hard
and fast from behind.
She had the eyes of
a serial killer,
with a splash of
rainy afternoon sadness.
I met her at the
homeless shelter, and her
soul was a
vagabond with a vengeance.
Her heart was an abyss.
Life had fucked her up
beyond repair.
No way was love gonna'
fix that train wreck,
that calculated mess.
In the end,
the best I
could do
was not
slip away with her.
-
Author:
Thomas W Case (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: January 29th, 2024 21:30
- Comment from author about the poem: Check out my book, Seedy Town Blues Collected Poems on Amazon.com And please subscribe to my youtube channel.
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 11
Offline)
Comments4
Another great poem, Thomas. Some fantastic lines.
Thank you, Tom
Dignity for both. 💜
Thank you, Teddy.
Sad people get that low, incapable of love, be hard not to slip away with them sometimes, you express it expertly
Thanks Thomas
Thank you, John.
Great descriptiveness that left a picture imprinted in my mind. I have seen this kind and you were right the best was to not slip away with her.
Thanks for the read and comment.
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