I cannot cry for a flower that dies,
You have been my potato eyes.
The welcome thorn in my side,
My Jackal to my Hyde.

Yet you are the beauty to my beast,
The Christmas cracker I'd like to pull.
The flour to my yeast,
The one who could get a rise out of me.

On any given night,
The one flame that makes my soul ignite.
The one who excepts me as I am,
My delectable angel delight.

Poetry by Alan J Ripley The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 32 times
Written on 2022-12-06 at 02:41

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