Theft I try to contemplate.
What is it that lingers,
On finger tips,
On stranger's lips.
What is mine, tell me when?
I shake the tingling weight.
Why is it, that desire,
On silver trinkets,
On breast couplets.
Hath lead me lost. In vain?
Who had it first? What god.
When is mine forever,
On eve of death,
On ****** unknown.
Who? That pleasure is beneath you.
I wrote this poem 6 years ago (If you've been keeping up with my poetry, 2010 was an amazing year... for my poetry, LOL. So too was 2011) and I found myself entranced by it again, so I decided to post it here.
Enjoy!
DEW