I've heard it all before.
Oh, how his speech with honey drips!I want to touch those lying lips
With a coal lit from the fire
Of my foolish, misguided desire,
And start a raging conflagration
So all that's left is desolation,
My wounded heart still panting, there
On the blackened hillside, bleak and bare.
Poetry by Marie Cadavieco
Read 582 times
Written on 2019-05-29 at 22:25
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