from fools to schemers
circling the rim of reality
sprinkling our decaying souls
into an elixir of immortality
from schemers to lovers
slicing our palms with keen glass
swearing a blood oath on our lives
for every day that comes to pass
from lovers to fools
in three hundred and sixty five days
because love could be labelled poison
and we'd still drink it anyway.
YOU ARE READING
Coffee Culture
PoetryIn which tiny snippets of time are cut and pasted together. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Poetry #30 (29/01/19) © 2019 evethespy. All Rights Reserved.
