Sweet Melancholy
-Sweet Melancholy-
Limbs shot with a breeze on the neck.
I digress. With the pigment of widow’s wail calling for atonement.
I hated my father, but not my dad. Oh...How times change. Hold both dear, it’s the notion that’s suppressed.
The cries of morning are heard in the night. Tears shed are bittersweet, like iron.
Dead on all accounts, except the outside.
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.
