Mine

She is mine,
an I cant deny,
the very thing that makes,
me high.
This is Hell,
knocking on her door,
no answer for me,
i'm on the floor.
Now i'm trying,
to catch her eyes,
tear mine out,
through them to the skies.
My voice,
threadbare and worn,
place my hands on her,
and make her moan.
Now call,
out into the air,
for her warmth,
to embrace me there.
And when,
I have her in my sights,
squeeze the trigger,
and hold on tight.
The angel,
dancing on her skin,
lights a fire,
down deep inside.



Poetry by Razel Davies
Read 472 times
Written on 2006-03-15 at 22:29

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