Poem 3

0 Comment| 4:07 pm

The starlight in your deep eyes,

Radiates my soul,

On this fortuitous night,

Start of my parole.


Wicked crimes I did commit,

Your touch against my cheek,

Forgiveness is found in you,

Freedom not so bleak.


The horror on their faces,

Haunts me in my dreams,

Love that you embrace me with,

Isn’t what it seems.


Enclosed down in your basement,

In your wicked cell,

You tell me tales of your grief,

Which doesn’t sit well.


If only I knew you then,

Preserved what is lost,

Vengeance would not transform you,

To a bitter host.


On my final day I cry,

Touched by you again,

My life no longer with us,

Put down in the den.


Now I sit here waiting cold,

In mysterious space,

I long for your touch again,

Take me to that place.

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