Unquiet Grave Poem by Kewayne Wadley

Unquiet Grave



She was a victim of my creative stimulus,
But I, no Frankenstein.
Great change brings sudden fear.
In brutal honesty,
Could she perhaps see I was the one dead searching for life through her all along.
All along I the sheet of paper that's become delicate to the wither of her hand.
The ideals and sketches
Alert that any moment I could be wad up and thrown to the side.
Without the modest nod of ink from her pen.
With careful eyes, thoughts only divert so long.
My hand longs to touch
But my mind is not so such anymore.
At this point religion became unaffordable.
I now suffered misery of a different sort, not wanting to lose what we've created.
I Feared she'd flee once she sees me for what I really am
A hideous creature searching for an perpetual sense of resurrection with
The acceptance of growing old with someone

Sunday, August 28, 2016
Topic(s) of this poem: for her,love,scared
COMMENTS OF THE POEM
READ THIS POEM IN OTHER LANGUAGES
Kewayne Wadley

Kewayne Wadley

Groton, Connecticutt
Close
Error Success