My mouth is wet and gently speaks your name,
upon my breath; isolation's cold grip continues,
and a fever runs through my body as I wait,
unwilling to let you go; to let you sleep,
because this burning pain,
revisiting your grave,
and the corner of Dubuque, and Park;
If I can love you,
as nothing more than memory,
and hold you, deep inside of me,
there may be an end
to his depressive stain.
YOU ARE READING
Please Don't Touch
PoetryPlease Don't Touch is my first self-published book of poetry, written and published originally in 2012. #51 in Poetry, 3 June, 2017 #85 in Poetry, 4 June, 2017 #108 in Poetry, 25 May, 2017 #136 in Poetry, 26 May, 2017 #149 in Poetry, 24 May, 2017 #1...
