Mary J - Poem by thomas sugg
If my mind is a garden
then you are the rusty blade of the lawnmower
dragged across the yard for the millionth time
whilst you tuck me into my deathbed
you suck my demons through the linen.
pensively stroking at the butchered stump,
the cavity in which once bore a heart
stumbling amidst the filth,
thriving amidst decay.
Comments about Mary J by thomas sugg
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep
Mary Elizabeth Frye
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You