© Erik Brickman 2006


I whine



In your hands, I become instrumental

You can play on all my strings

Yet lure me under the water to drown

And I'll will do it gladly

Or maybe my voice will whine a little bit

But so what?

You know you own my very soul, body too

So, play me hard

And I'll be the weeping of your dreams.



Poetry by Erik Brickman
Read 1078 times
Written on 2006-01-22 at 15:50

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With so much desperate passion in and between the lines, even a word like "whine" becomes red-hot...
2006-01-22