#001 Poem by Abigail Hauschild
#001
I used to write tortured prose…
Words dripping with regret rolled off my tongue
Every letter like a sponge soaked in pain… oozing black ink blood
But now the pen has run dry
I have no more pain to soak my letters
I have no more regret to dress my words in mourning
I am much too full of love for you to leak anything but joy.
Wednesday, December 6, 2017
Topic(s) of this poem: love
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9/19/2024 8:34:22 AM # 1.0.0.1119
Excellent...happy for you.