Perfect Marriage Poem by David Blake
Perfect Marriage
Through the smoky haze of
another darkly lite bar she
again closes her eyes pretending
not to see Dancing in sorrow
drowning in sin, her smile is
becomes crooked and thin.
Doing things she knows she
will never confess her soul is
at rest, then the first kiss.
Felling more like an animal
things rapidly progress until
she awakes with nothing mores
than a headache and another
regret.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/23/2024 4:35:05 AM # 1.0.0.1119
