deepundergroundpoetry.com
Whispering Silver
Cold hands grasp a warm surface and
Bitterness retreats into the subconscious while those hands
Sprinkle arson into the veins of truth while
The spring continues to elude our winter's end;
It's possible to guess on a whim
That sustained energy might lose its power.
Bitterness retreats into the subconscious while those hands
Sprinkle arson into the veins of truth while
The spring continues to elude our winter's end;
It's possible to guess on a whim
That sustained energy might lose its power.
Published 26th May 2014
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