Silently Poem by Jerome Fuseau
Silently
False times, don't you find, darling?
Just false times. Can't you hear it?
Maybe it is your blood pattering
slowly all around in your lean veins.
But I wish it was the Reaper's breath.
No, I won't be ashamed, darling.
The idea is bright and correct:
He will be there just in time
To make me forget. Get back to sleep.
Monday, March 23, 2015
Topic(s) of this poem: despair,sad,short
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4/25/2024 11:19:07 PM # 1.0.0.1119
