"Nothing belongs to me,
Nothing belongs to she."
Said the woman writing poetry
Not quite a girl, yet not a lady
Prostitution on the other side of the world
Digest this receding lonesome
Old face, young body, bottoms up
Apartment stairwell leads to the truth
Nothing tends to erase the bruise
Highway motorcycles, poetic music
Sunset strip polka
Playing through my incidental life
"Nothing belongs to me,
Nothing belongs to she."
Said the woman in the tree
"Nothing but her poetry."
YOU ARE READING
melancholia: a collection of poetry
PoesiaThis is a collection of poetry all written by myself The individual poems will be marked as parts with their names. These poems are completely my own. They are the essence of my soul. It's like when you are younger and you just painted something out...
