Instinctively I run Lamed again, Out from pain, Veering from her sun. Ending here in this velvet dark place, Here where sharpness is blunted by chaos, Entropically bound; certain madness, Roped in by my mind, self hate in my face. She left me for him. Tattered me Instantly, Laid me out; trimmed Level; lost; unloved.
Ohme, thank goodness you are wrong - a happier "poet" you could not hope to find - this was just a little test that a "dear friend" !! lol set me to do - but thanks for reading and the concern was appreciated .
Member Rara Avis
PoerTree This poem could not have been just wrought From fantasy or imagined thought For I've been in that velvet place This poem just stares me in the face The words you choose, beyond belief My soul's been stolen by poet thief Elizabeth