Poetry Blogs (thief)
A year or so ago,
if you would like to know;
a thief, she stole my heart.
Then left me all alone.
If I gave her the blame,
well, that'd be a shame.
I could call myself a thief, too.
Just not in the same way.
You see, a thief never returns.
But me? Her heart was always hers.
She stole mine then made the escape,
with mine, hers, and her final words.
Friday 14th October 2016 6:04 am
There’s a floor called race and a home called blood,
it can be what forms you.
It can be what clothes you, what warms you as it flows through your body,
a rich honey providing brotherhood, relation, family and love -
bonds of pride which cartwheel through your body.
I have a mystery and in my father lies the clues.
I had droplets of speciality, uniqueness, distinction, excitement...
Saturday 29th November 2014 10:59 pm