Sally Plumb Plumb
It walks by your hanging head,
There in your mind
the thoughts they turn...
what lies will form,
what blame be fed?
Then one sweet grasp at sanity,
a quiet repose...
till lying dread,
all cautions of the burning dread
that follows through
with words unsaid
into a mind of secrecy.
'Twill lend no ear
to silent sounds
for ever distant sighs abound...
the guilt of lust.
Self can't release
the former trust.
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Comments about this poem (Betrayel by Sally Plumb Plumb )
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