poetryinthepan
Wednesday, May 11, 2016
bed of nails
I made a bed of nails,
to wound the lovers I embraced.
But always, it was my flesh torn,
it was my blood that fell,
It was only I that felt pain,
they smiled and sighed,
with delight,
protected by the softness of my flesh.
1 comment:
grams ramblings
July 15, 2016 at 12:42 PM
Ooooh, very evocative...
Have you stopped writing .. more please...
gramswisewords.blogspot.com
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Ooooh, very evocative...
ReplyDeleteHave you stopped writing .. more please...
gramswisewords.blogspot.com