Could ever dictate
the course of our days
and nights
on the serrated cliff
where we bid our love
and dissolved our selves
our distinctions for
the parallel altar
of sublime affection.
No demons, no gods
could ever dictate the
color of thistle I will
crown on your hair
before you turn your back
and I finally walk away.
Oct 17, 2016
Oct 17, 2016 at 11:27 AM UTC
Could ever dictate
the course of our days
and nights
on the serrated cliff
where we bid our love
and dissolved our selves
our distinctions for
the parallel altar
of sublime affection.
No demons, no gods
could ever dictate the
color of thistle I will
crown on your hair
before you turn your back
and I finally walk away.
Request permission to use this poem