Taken
The sound of dripping
was not of tears, but of her blood.
Thick scarlet drops, create a pool,
spreading to my quivering hands.
Kneeling, I stared in disbelief,
the lively face, now ashen.
Her glassy eyes seared into,
the very essence of my sanity.
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.
