Treasure Island

Romesh De Silva


Lust


Pools of romance continually dry
Words of love lack truth, no surprise
The letter you wrote to me, your one and only
Signed, no hugs, no kisses
P.S. don’t visit, don’t write, don’t call me
It hurts to think the end is now
I clench the paper in my hand
My heart begins to stutter, skip beats and pound ha...ha harder
Body becomes weak, letters set free, to the floor they float
Vivid pictures flash before my blinded eyes
Nothing around me is heard... temperature rise
Evil intentions brought on by love
Poison tipped, cupid’s arrow
Shoot to kill from up above
Direct hit, my heart... lust.... word on lips, sorrow.

Submitted: Saturday, May 17, 2014

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Topic(s): lust

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poet Edmund Spenser

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