Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Sep 2014
love, that what are thee:
i am trying to find,

having come to a dark wood
–i went astray.

there that such of self i found
and gave each hand to be

was not but bough of fleshy bind
(where nought but skin could see.)
PK Wakefield
Written by
PK Wakefield
185
   Bruised Orange
Please log in to view and add comments on poems