My soul out in a burning mist
My body in the worst of dens
To feed it and forget it, the leaves among it
Silence with that murmur, the swung wicket
Its a broken hearted nemophilist
Here
The neck your mother's arms caressed
A handful of blossoms I plucked
Hands tied up and darkened
Great black spots where the blood has run
When we were rich in the crevice
We had our bodies burnished
Night shacking up, so we've furnished
Not a plenteous sort of season, time of year
Blue-black, lustrous, masculine eyes
Barricaded by trees, fields, and grime tears
May 26, 2016
May 26, 2016 at 11:57 AM UTC
My soul out in a burning mist
My body in the worst of dens
To feed it and forget it, the leaves among it
Silence with that murmur, the swung wicket
Its a broken hearted nemophilist
Here
The neck your mother's arms caressed
A handful of blossoms I plucked
Hands tied up and darkened
Great black spots where the blood has run
When we were rich in the crevice
We had our bodies burnished
Night shacking up, so we've furnished
Not a plenteous sort of season, time of year
Blue-black, lustrous, masculine eyes
Barricaded by trees, fields, and grime tears
