Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Devil Atticman Mar 2018
You'll lose me on that winding road;
On the guts of you I choke.
Wrought with knots like gallows' rope,

Your poem is too long.
I love the spirit's spilling forth, but in those rankled waves I'm crushed,
Doomed never to comprehend,
Buried 'neath a city of notes.
Devil Atticman Mar 2018
So much love in you.

So much treasure locked away,
Unable to be shared.

Too much love in you.

Too many rivers to your spread delta,
Where you stand bravely to drown.

Immortal love in you.

The gift of a soul,
The truest something.

So much love that you'd give it to nothing.
The world is skin,
But you are within,
And passion is sin,
But who would've known?

Maybe past the aeons, we can try this again.
Devil Atticman Mar 2018
"I will be a master chef," she said,

Spreading peanut butter on toast.

— The End —