I miss her,
especially with the frosting's here on in
the English countryside bled white
ice and degrees zero
no longer heroes
blond haired and actual
I miss her
with the tree mounted and decorated
tinsel tasseled as a scarf
craved to be part of a family gone
away, torched in brandy
I miss her.
The empty bed, solo no glow anymore
I crave her delicate voice and thoughts
sounds only
throats obscured, insecure, fused and melted
I miss her.
tantamount climbing a face
again and again in my head
slipped, somewhere amongst the ascent
decent, too fast, lost my legs
I miss her.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Posts
Have appreciated your poems. This is my favorite so far. Keep feeling and sharing.
ReplyDelete