Tectonic Plates - Poem by Mark Heathcote
I have longed to kiss.
That brow of sunken silence
I have longed to reminisce.
The furrowed arches she'd raised.
Such tenderness abreast
Is spellbindingly, tainted.
At worst; fractures, like these
Are tectonic plates, moving, southwest?
But I swear I still have her heart and soul
They're still under my house arrest
Even though, I'm now, homeless.
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