Heavens Torment Poem by Mark Heathcote

Heavens Torment



Morn can open a Violet
like a book of hearts
chapters ultraviolet
coarse and converse
in tales of beaux arts
sees my lady immerse
her delicate soul thereof
in a woodland flower bent
over her dust jackets of love
sees the stars disperse
their dewy cobwebbed scent
sees her as my curse
heaven's torment.

Thursday, February 16, 2012
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