Worst Morning After
It started off a naughty night,
though haven seemed so near in sight,
our scarlet stream turned a mindless monster;
its wake was a worst morning after.
We stormed the streets, painting them red,
I reluctantly burnished soft bursts in bed;
twain thrust and tones and groaning and laughter...
its wake was a worst morning after.
the feelings dawned like dew and dried so fast
on me, the heat of pain struck like stormy blast;
Cherry asked me to drill down faster...
its wake was a worst morning after.
A mix of gin and sexual sin
welcomed weariness and woes within,
it tasted sweet but left me bitter...
Its wake was a worse morning after.
I was right after all, Karma is a blind judge,
Cherry was not the one who took me to the lodge.
I got it all wrong when the bitter got sweeter..
Its wake was a worse morning after.
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.
