My Love
My Love
It's gaping maw insatiable,
Crawls trembling toward lurid
Sunlight.
It is a bottom feeder;
An aphorism for suppressed passion.
That amorphous wretch:
Refusal to cease equating
Suffering and nonsense,
To love and the masquerade-
I shiver at the thought.
"My Love"
Jenna-Nichole Conrad
Wordsmith
Copyright © Jenna-Nichole Conrad | Year Posted 2012
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