Celebrating
the midnight at target shooting
making away of yourself.
The morning smells coming from
your axillae?
I cannot believe my
jaundiced eyes.
The blue night abusing
the white moon –
in a sizzling sky.
Hedonism?
I will keep your name
on the brink, before
I jump into fire.
What was the secret of the
lovers, who left their belongings
before disappearing into dark woods?
-
Author:
satishverma (
Offline) - Published: October 21st, 2016 19:12
- Category: Nature
- Views: 13
Offline)
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.