She sleeps with secrets in Poetry is the Window to the Soul...

  • Feb. 26, 2019, 3:14 a.m.
  • |
  • Public

She sleeps with secrets
Ghosts of lovers
She never had
Her tongue creases
Soft lips of crimson
A wicked instrument
Devouring the courage
Of hardened sex –
The wills of lustful men

She bathes with weakness
Wrought iron heart
They bend against
Whispers so devious
Legs offering entrance
As her bare back arches
Against the pleasure
Of such desperate men

She loves with affliction
Opening her heart
Sharpens the edge
Winter is her season
Once fertile trees
Sway barren without leaves
In her cold, angry breeze
With such an eager touch
She offers soul-thieving,
Sexual healing,
The most honest and
Conflicted love
This man has ever had

© Brian Milici
February 25, 2019

Redhead Puddleduck February 26, 2019


LoveSuicide Redhead Puddleduck ⋅ February 26, 2019

Honored you think so.

Redhead Puddleduck LoveSuicide ⋅ February 26, 2019

Not at all. I wish I had a talent for poetry.

LoveSuicide Redhead Puddleduck ⋅ February 26, 2019

Why do you think you do not?

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