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Of Muses

(7 march 1988)

It's About November


You give him your kisses, more than my lips were given kisses
and all my days are painted black
because of that.

Your mouth, cannot speak my name with joy anymore,
and for that, I'm like an outcast, on your lips
my fair lady.

In your heart, it is hard to get in now
for you have taken back the gold key
you once placed in my hand.

Why do you enjoy being so cruel to me
when I did nothing but to love you?

Submitted: Sunday, May 12, 2013
Edited: Friday, September 13, 2013
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Comments about this poem (It's About November by Of Muses )

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  • Patricia Grantham (5/18/2013 9:29:00 PM)

    It's about November and also a broken heart. Can anybody survive a
    broken heart? . Yes, it takes time to pick up the pieces and find another.
    A lovely write. Thanks for sharing. (Report) Reply

Read all 1 comments »

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