The Witching Hour
Death,
you're freed;
With one taste
define nightlife;
Now I will take you,
drip for me as I taste
and then erase your anguish;
Give yourself to the Witching hour;
Strawberries decadent in moonlight,
it was not the apple that Eve wanted.
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.