. The Poet's Beat .

. The Poet's Beat .

Thursday, December 20, 2018

Cold and Pale


We were vexed and rebels
lurking in curtains of whispers
heavenbound but hellish in the present

she slipped out of her golden flats
tip-toed through the morning grass where in passing
dark footprints were all that was left of her sunrise dancing

she shook like a shivering child when she laughed
made me crawl cold and pale from her bed
amble stiffly down dim halls
and run her a bath.

TA

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