my darling, my baby, her throat is bleeding out
i watch her gasp laid down beside my god of many tongues
i sent her ten white roses flown across five hundred miles
i sent her pictures of me in tears clothed in black exile
my honey, my pudding, my girl of silken words
she pushes back my plate of blood like i have more to give
it takes a swinging lightbulb just to hear about her day
it takes a pint of vodka just to find another lay
YOU ARE READING
almost pretty.
Poetrya collection of free-verse poetry. please vote, comment, and add to your library if you enjoy!
