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The strangled cries bled from her crushed throat,
And bruises bloomed blue roses on white flesh as
His hands tightened. Her fragile body thrashed,
Her starving lungs ached to draw last breath.
She was still, as starbursts flashed in dying eyes
And angels with bowed heads at beauty wept.
She offered him her being and her soul,
And now in pure submission is she kept.

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perksperksover 19 years ago
perkspective

My comments on your poem are on the new poems thread in the poetry forum. I did not use the thermometer for rating.

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