Now I am used to
betrayals.
I don’t hit back
in the vanishing light.
Very frightening,
I will say.
Sightless bats hovering
round your head.
Have started playing
the game with the nettle.
I will take the stings
and give you back honey.
An intimate kiss of a
naked beetle.
Are you coming for the
last supper?
-
Author:
satishverma (
Offline) - Published: October 24th, 2016 22:37
- Category: Nature
- Views: 16
Offline)
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.