the
wild haired
woman
child
who
kissed the
boys
& made
a pile
of broken
spirits
&
empty
dreams
strung
w/ opals
&
velveteen
draped upon
her naked
back
to soothe her
ache
& heal the
lack
of dedicated
honorable
men
who break
in her wake
before she
counts
"ten"
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a little dark poetry never hurt anyone
1 comment:
i love the rhythm in his one. the imagery is great, too. where'd you grow up?
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