Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Feb 2013
I do not want to speak of death
or time's unyielding sting.

I do not want a wasted breath
on such a pointless thing.

Right now I see no greater sin
than making passion dead.



So let me breathe your fragrant skin...
Come, crawl inside my bed.
BarelyABard
Written by
BarelyABard  Nowhere
(Nowhere)   
Please log in to view and add comments on poems