"the beast" she said
"the beast" she said in a snail's fashion"it is what it is" she looked away
I could see despair caressing her hair
tiredness pulling her ankles down
"I can not" she insisted
she looked at me looking at her
it was late one night
the ghost of a dead dog
hailed the past with silence
there were small footsteps in the air
echoing patients long dead
one more cigarette
one more glimpse of the heart
Poetry by Bob
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Written on 2014-08-21 at 21:13
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Åsa Andersson |
| Texts |
 by Bob Latest textsI seldom walkthere’s a rumor there will be no full stop so many regrets who am I |
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