The Sequil To The Song I Wrote On Her Wrists. Poem by J. Matthew Thacker
The Sequil To The Song I Wrote On Her Wrists.
and yet i greave....
an endless torture that haunts
haunts the very esence of my being
the way she moved
the way she talked
the way she loved me
and nothing more
she loved me so
and i too bare
her scares for entrance
for what i care?
for i still care
but i to bare
i still love
and i will bare
she wont see
bare not my greeds
hold on to thee
a crime of three.....
a poem......
thats my 'gift' to her
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Delivering Poems Around The World
Poems are the property of their respective owners. All information has been reproduced here for educational and informational purposes to benefit site visitors, and is provided at no charge...
4/17/2024 5:45:30 AM # 1.0.0.1119
