Poem 60717

Tormented by your sweet breath and kisses drawn
Between my interludes with you too long,
My madness flairs and bleeds on all,
Who in my hapless path do fall.

And Death adorns the half-alive
Like a whipping post; And I’m your slave
With welts and scars sun-dried
Praying in vain for a gritty grave.

A poet I am not, but yet I rest upon a blade
And search the hearts of passers-by
And one by dreadful one I feel our beauty fade:
Death for me awaits, as for you, do I.