Monday 2 May 2022

10

I wouldn't claim to be an expert in the ways of love
That being said, I shall have you know
I have swum its torrid rivers and deserts
Escaped its prisons with the skin of my teeth

I met a lovely broad, she sintered my soul
Plucked me from misery, and left me to croak
In a week of my repressed language and love
My heart died at parting, my soul is now cold

Now I lie awake, assaulted in words and woe
The verses don't form, the poems don't flow
This was the very reason I have cowered in fear
Kept my heart walled and drank all my tears

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