I'm sure this has happened before...
&
this is different, but no different.
Her & sincerity dressed in white- undoubtingly, she's
more ready. Her bosom, as outspoken as any activist.
I'm convinced that that's what I'm vowing my interest to;
Frankly, I don't think she understands that
in the flesh is a siren that has forgotten its sound.
Plenty of whatevers; I yawn over any prepared promises.
Only when she's drunk, I offer my half of love. But this is new
to her, a silhouette of what she forces is what she sees. I'm
dressed in black.
I have no real image but she views me. Our possession will never end
if I say 'yes.' Her joy is death upon my ears.
She waits for me... her smile getting smaller, as I too, shrink.
A funeral at my wedding.
An unique circumstances one side wedding and another funeral. your writing is highly solicited.
funeral at wedding, good write, thanks. I invite you to read my poems and comment.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
My favourite line is Her bosom, as outspoken as any activist. Lovely Poem. Thanks for sharing.