Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Apr 2014
Let us not be slaves to our fears.
But servants to our hearts.

My body, now, is an old mansion.
Iron gates and heavy oak doors.

Your kiss. Your touch.
Sacred phantoms.
Lingering and supernatural.

Oh, that you would haunt my home once more...
Sean Critchfield
Written by
Sean Critchfield
  1.5k
       L B, ---, Don Bouchard, SPT, vamsi sai mohan and 37 others
Please log in to view and add comments on poems