She Of Mine

Waiting,
for mine,
the Goddess.
Her golden voice,
taunting me,
in the night.
Holding me tight,
being great in mind,
and in smiling hurts,
love,
the most harmful word.
Taken down below,
never knowing light.
Placed,
deep inside,
waiting,
eternally,
for the grace,
of sweet love's,
embrace.
Cutting,
stabbing,
shooting pain.
Medicines,
doctors,
none can help,
none are wanted.



Poetry by Razel Davies
Read 533 times
Written on 2006-03-15 at 22:33

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