Treasure Island

Lawrence Beck

Not Exactly Saved

I've grown. That's bullshit. I've decayed,
A long fall, starting decades back,
Without an end. That's getting old. I do
My best, I guess, to glide, but gliding's falling,
Isn't it? And getting old is rather dismal,
Hence, my newfound brightness when you
Showed up, young, and seemingly
Attracted to the parts of me which,
As yet, have some life in them. I cannot
Say I understand, but I will have you;
Christ, I'll cling to you until you turn
Away. You give the glide a flatter path.
You stop the tumbling. Suddenly, I
Feel as if your kisses and your arm
Around me let me grow. I know that's
Bullshit. Even so, they limit the decay.

Submitted: Thursday, July 17, 2014
Edited: Friday, July 18, 2014

Do you like this poem?
0 person liked.
0 person did not like.

What do you think this poem is about?

Topic(s): love

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Comments about this poem (Not Exactly Saved by Lawrence Beck )

Enter the verification code :

There is no comment submitted by members..
[Hata Bildir]