Anais Poem by r james sterzinger
Anais
Anais
I understand
now the beauty
the horrible
beauty of
relationships
they way you live
and die
with each chance you take
no relationship
ever dies
even if
life
breath
or night thrusting does
it becomes
the mortars of life
holding up
all our secret walls
some become
glorious cathedrals
like Notre' Dame
some become
glorious crypts
or private graves
am I right?
Anais?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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5/5/2024 12:08:07 AM # 1.0.0.1119
