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southwest

For Connar:

I linger long for you

in the desolate wasteland

that is

my speechless silence.

Lusting for replies

to my love

that demands

and scorns.

Why would the rose

of fields so fertile

dare to touch

this trodden ground

worn,

and weathered?

Who am I

to claim

your ****** toes?

By: Devon Artis-White (4/28/13)

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Written by

American

Published: Apr 28, 2013
LinesWords: 1955

Notes: I own nothing, I just desperately wanted to share.
For more by this incredibly talented man visit http://hellopoetry.com/-devon-2/

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