That past love is like an omnipotent
Ghost between our bed sheets
Fucking with our love and turning
This manna to gall.
What I wouldn't give to exorcise this demon
And shred her wispen form between my teeth
Her Whoreish visage and entrapping ways
But I've realised with time and a saddening patience
That killing her memory would involve
Killing a part of you
And evidently our love isn't worthwhile
Because you will never let her go.
YOU ARE READING
Black Coffee
Poetry"Normality is an illusion. What is normal for the spider is chaos for the fly"- Anon. In life we tenderly bloom, slowly shrivel and then die like flowers. This small collection of poetry reveals human emotion from a number of different perspectives...
