Donations are essential to keep Write Out Loud going    

lost (Remove filter)

At The Grave Of St Valentine

there's a point on the map when

doubts and desapir veer to meet

and idly parade nowhere down a

lonely slum of a one-way street

 

no compass charts this latitude

where time gross reality bends

for its a quarter of lifeless loss

the geography where love ends

 

I've drifted here so many times

its memories my endless bane

before me for I sense a reprise

I am sure...

Read and leave comments (0)

betrayalcompassgeographyhatelatitudelostmaptime

This site uses cookies. By continuing to browse, you are agreeing to our use of cookies.

Find out more Hide this message