Black holes stop their pull in fear
Hate hangs from me like a disintegrating cloak
It’s sickly oil tendrils trailing from me
It never gives passes
Eloquent in its misuse
Scratching its way through the sheerness. of the
slivers
Feeling so black that blue isn’t quite enough
Love drapes from me like a sculpted marble toga
It’s twirling twines exploding into fluff
It lives in the past and futures
Incoherently overused
It coddles in lessening touches of soft
Feeling the light before it lands
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
