LAST NIGHT'S KNOCK
The Cid
I portray a velvet nightgown,
Mystified by last night's knock
Where it all commenced.
Eve was chilly;
The enervating breeze
Surfaces my cell;
Similar to a typical night
Every eleven...
The next thing I knew,
Though I was being held
In a drastic manner
That I couldn't move,
I put up with the prickle
Of his coup,
Courageously welcoming
The outburst at that time
Of the day;
Thought
I was at the Elysium.
I did not protest
Or decry─
Never did I.
Permitted him
To set my pulse up high
Until we fly.
Venom being extricated;
Tipsy soul extracted;
No cream wasted;
Found
Dead.
YOU ARE READING
SNIPPETS OF POETRY
Poetry"My anecdotes, and the voices of my core that I failed to hush."
