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paul-hornePoems
around which they stand unshakeable, proud, masters of all the reason that lies behind every move, each carefree step, brick upon brick, fired, a memory, then layered to a common tune in the background, gently humming old man with his stick, holding hands, love at its first, and last, this was us, our dream and now, just a whisper, rubble to fumble through for crumbs to comfort the cold and forgotten Unblemished by joy, the child with her shawl, no protection from this barren life, bare, for all who still see this weathered face, trust destroyed, all warmth and womanly instinct seeped out for a well worn page, insatiable lust, long forgotten
0
Apr 24, 2020
Apr 24, 2020 at 2:14 AM UTC
The tower,
around which they stand unshakeable, proud, masters of all the reason that lies behind every move, each carefree step, brick upon brick, fired, a memory, then layered to a common tune in the background, gently humming old man with his stick, holding hands, love at its first, and last, this was us, our dream and now, just a whisper, rubble to fumble through for crumbs to comfort the cold and forgotten Unblemished by joy, the child with her shawl, no protection from this barren life, bare, for all who still see this weathered face, trust destroyed, all warmth and womanly instinct seeped out for a well worn page, insatiable lust, long forgotten
#infidelity
Written by
paul-horne
57/M/Cardiff
Apr 24, 2020
Apr 24, 2020 at 2:14 AM UTC
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