I am remembering her again
Not just the screams this time,
Not just the blood on the kitchen floor
But the curve of her lips as she spoke of poetry
How she listened to my music and smiled.
We were the same, she and I.
YOU ARE READING
Dark Poetry
PoetryWar breaks out, Or so they shout. The odds of winning Are in doubt. We have no clue What the war is about, Yet we fight On and out. I'd like to get some stuff off of my chest. Some words I'd like to say. Some things I want to admit. All can be said...
