For You Nicole
FOR YOU NICOLE
The night the blood on the sod
Looks your birthday apron that
Wipes off a murderer's sweat.
Hands besmeared with slime,
Smell of putrid snick,maniac
Who has to inherit a corner of
Underbrush,Nicole, to lie
On your cold lips.
Poe in Plath style - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: July Morning
POET: RAJAT KANTI CHAKRABARTY
10th February, 2018
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