Treasure Island

Is It Poetry

(1958 - / Bus-Boys And Poets, Washington D.C.)

solitude In Mine


Here in my solitude it is lost inside,
yea though I have been well I once was a man.
In my solitude she sought,
she sought like I a place to to go and hide.
In my solitude I can not but repeat,
one thought that is alive, no longer is.

However deep my solitude, my room, my blurry sight.
To engage your intellect with out stretched hands,
my lips forget the taste of your sweet wine, the apple of.
However free I never felt unless I was with you.
And strained relationships weren't strong unless because.

Submitted: Wednesday, January 15, 2014
Edited: Thursday, January 16, 2014
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