Early Fingers Make Flowers of All Things
THE tongue makes
words so hungry
but
i love you
and
i hate you
//a charter crisply straying
jig-saw shape across the secret-corner
promises a love for you
when with you i do not wish to be
but the bedroom's secretly
moist eyes are kissingly
playing with me _____
and hope is a thief while top-turved
insides need the pleasant
surprise to be; thy lips a sweet
thing death, wait here\\
Copyright © Ernest Robles | Year Posted 2022
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