Poetry Blogs (2018, powerful)
I am keeping a secret with myself
clutching it within like a bird’s claw,
the carrier pigeons have been shot,
guess I forgot to warn the men with rifles,
suppose it wasn’t a clay pigeon after all.
My mouth is a gold crested envelope,
my lips are licked with wax:
they are an inked kiss,
the pout is the stamp,
my mind is the scroll:
bound and bound,
Tuesday 10th July 2018 2:23 pm
- 2018 (1)
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