Ophelia. Me. Ophelia. Me. Lost love...the common bond.
a tool, represent
an angry dark figure
whose scent lingers yet
and mixes with summer
that rolls in with fog
and lingers on lovers
who, seeking, reach God.
In a moment of panic
it's pulled out of reach
and the object is broken,
drowned by the breach
of a contract once given
with innocent words
but spit on by vipers
whose strangling swords
strike darkness in new light
and death into joy
reminding with violence
I am but a toy.
Poetry by R.
Read 770 times
Written on 2006-10-16 at 02:10
Save as a bookmark (requires login)
Write a comment (requires login)
Send as email (requires login)
Print text
Ophelia.
I am but a sex toya tool, represent
an angry dark figure
whose scent lingers yet
and mixes with summer
that rolls in with fog
and lingers on lovers
who, seeking, reach God.
In a moment of panic
it's pulled out of reach
and the object is broken,
drowned by the breach
of a contract once given
with innocent words
but spit on by vipers
whose strangling swords
strike darkness in new light
and death into joy
reminding with violence
I am but a toy.
Poetry by R.
Read 770 times
Written on 2006-10-16 at 02:10
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
|
Zachary P. B. |
