Pressed To My Heart
Sorrow,
you moan my name day and night
and seek out my anguish, grief, and misery
making me melancholy and mournful . . .
because of you I pick up a pen
and woebegone words . . . drip, drip, drip, drip-
then, leave me until you call me back
to embrace me, so I may suffer again-
and like a lover, I hold you
pressed to my heart . . .
__________________________
April 13, 2020 (Edit)
Poetry/Verse/pressed to my heart
Copyright Protected, ID 20-1243-569-03
All Rights Reserved, 2020, Constance La France
Submitted to Strand Pick 11 Contest
sponsor, Brian Strand
Honorable Mention
Copyright © Constance La France | Year Posted 2020
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