Email Poem

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Personal Note:

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Poem

Grace is wasted, on the lost lips of Hope,
Like the charred, bereft bile that stains your tips.
The taste of your tongue, rough and fissured, hangs 
Haphazardly on mine, mind alive with the 
Temptation. 

Should I take your eyes? Worthless as they seem, 
As pitiful as the potholed, pits which run over your
Cheek. Do I forget my belt hung still 
On the mantle of a youths old dream –
To surrender a second with you?

Time has no feeling, when only with ancient eyes
Can you implore, duty bound to protect alien kin. I
Have forgotten them; like they never touched my name 
With long closed lips. You came then, blue waste in the 
Poison of your breath, sterile to my protest.

Do it, unlock it, steal my heart. Take the words of great 
Fallen men, call them your own lies. Deny the courage,
Carnage fought for the sweet silver of earthen skies, bite 
The dripping apple still hung on my frostbitten lips. 
Unlock it with the simple caress of your death enticing tips.

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