- Non-Erotic Poetry
- Ending
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Can words express this storm within?
Can letters typed contain the howling wind?
Can what is felt be ordered into lines of type,
So that chaos is titan bound upon this screen?
My duty and my ordered life keep me tethered
Routine covering disordered passion
Like cold snow drifting on the flames of rage
Banking the pain so that I may function
One day, I know, these wounds will pass.
One day I will embrace my heart again,
And not feel razor edge and daggers drawn.
One day.
- COMMENTS
Anonymousabout 12 years agoNot exactly literature gold, but not bad. Whoever she was she's not worth mourning over for too long.
