Poetry by Moongoole Blog

It’s not him
I’ve left,
It’s her,

But when

In pain
She sets
To stir,

And all

Her games
And threats
Return;

The ones

That blame,
And let
Me burn,

And in

Those flames
My sweat
Is heard

Until

She drains
Regretful
Words.


(C) iangoole

Bookmark and Share
FREE MEMBERSHIP The Web Blogger Twitter Facebook Helium