Treasure Island

Is It Poetry

(1958 - / Bus-Boys And Poets, Washington D.C.)

Alone.


Love,
can it become stronger in death..
living in death with her alone.
I sit alone,
It drifts all around me.. you..
Feelings there they aren't both the same.
I coquetted all, they sway me not, wishing to drink alone
each and all but one, touched by all, seeing none alone one..is
People watch me, as do you alone, with others some I knew
none like you, alone, even inside of you but one alone.
Adornment is wines last bottle to nurse you, none found you
out, I did alone to fear deaths lusty touch alone, in bed alone.
I know you will be alone when you read this, alone has the tail
laid against your one eye, feeling heaven fly bye, home alone.

Submitted: Wednesday, April 22, 2009
Edited: Tuesday, May 11, 2010

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