deepundergroundpoetry.com
mortis à trois
I sit watching the world whip by
with death's hand
on my shoulder
moving closer each day
to empty oblivion,
but having someone
sit with me
maybe even straddle me,
will make the hand hover
if only for a moment.
Even better if
while our lips entwine
they defy death's stare,
their passion buying me some time
to complete them.
with death's hand
on my shoulder
moving closer each day
to empty oblivion,
but having someone
sit with me
maybe even straddle me,
will make the hand hover
if only for a moment.
Even better if
while our lips entwine
they defy death's stare,
their passion buying me some time
to complete them.
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