Poetry Blogs (sympathy)
poemagraphic on I never lied in the rose garden. (Cummings and goings) (7 hours ago)
You call me selfish for trying to take what is mine, and mine only, and do with it as I wish
Your claim and the belief behind it, is even more so
And, though you may not realize, all you are doing is prioritizing your pain over mine
You pacify your fear of heartache with my suffering
So tell me true, if you were in my shoes - if you overlooked your own feelings to e...
Monday 30th December 2019 1:59 am
My uncle, Gaston,
mum's bro (1-yr apart),
died whilst I cradled him
in the crook of me arms.
He lay there bliss-filled
Faint lustre of his boyhood charms.
It was a waiting game
& he was hanging on.
He held back the Ripper's blade
Unmindful that he'd had it made.
Friday 8th February 2013 1:00 am