Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Aug 2014
I run my fingers along your
spine as you lay
Curled — weeping.
That house is no longer home
and my heart has no vacancies.

She needs put down
like an aged canine
       whose poor health and deterioration constantly remind
that love dies with age
And we move on.
CJS
Written by
CJS  Pittsburgh
(Pittsburgh)   
418
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems