Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
The gold moth did not love him
So, gorgeous, she flew away.
But the gray moth circled the flame
       Until the break of day.
And then, with wings like a dead desire,
She fell, fire-caught, into the flame.
  5.7k
       ilias, Amaranthine, Molly, ---, M and 11 others
Please log in to view and add comments on poems