It's urges pulse like the beat of my heart, what will trigger it, to once again start?
A glance here, hidden beneath the screen, it releases it fury, followed by a scream.
It knows where to strike, how to hit its mark, turning the hope of light to dark.
It comes often, leaving me wasted in regret, yet it denies me to my face, "Have we ever met"?
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Started writing poetry officially in 1991, enjoy reading Edgar Allen Poe, reading and dissecting the Holy Bible, and listening to beautiful/inspiring people. Age has no bearing on creativity. Some of the most beautiful things come from those of much lesser age and life experiences. So listen to those young people!
#household Thick, laced and red, Beckoning to my head, In a bowl, mug or glass, Temptation comes, I feel it swirl and mass, So sweet it will taste, Yet I should leave, And run without haste, Can't...
The Red is like love. If you're filled with other things, it won't affect much. Consume by itself, and you'll end up drunk. She stands at the door, Hands and body shaking, pops the cork.
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