Get Your Premium Membership

Who Titles These

lust intoned with death. and people, friends, speak of ends of where we go.. They know, within an atrophy they goad. they claim then with arrogance that all is lust, and that lovers lie to truth. But i would find, with my eyes, that they still must goad... And it means that they soon shall find their seams unwind.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2012




Post Comments

Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.

Please Login to post a comment

A comment has not been posted for this poem. Encourage a poet by being the first to comment.


Book: Shattered Sighs