Untitled 10
You’ll eat anything:
the closer to death the better.
I think you prefer me half dead:
the fainter my pulse,
the tastier I am.
But I won’t let you gorge
on my thin bones anymore;
these pale remains are mine.
I’ll love, and try to live,
to kill your appetite.
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.
