Back then
When
The smoke
Was
Thickest,
It seems to me
We saw
Each other
More clearly.
Sharing
A day,
A room,
A life
I was then,
At least,
Your mirror;
You were
Always
More than mine.
In public view
And in private
You held me firmly
With sensitive, demanding fingers.
Screaming, I forced you on.
Who made the first wedge
That came between us?
The answer irrelevant now, but
If it were me, yours was
The sledge that dove it home.
Each of us carries guilt –
Like wolves having devoured a cub.
A life that should have blossomed …
Consumed by the wrong kind of passion.
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It goes for the jugular and connects with truth.
Gosh!
That’s one helluva feedback: thanks.
finding and loosing and making love to a sin so beautiful…
so very well written Beeseeker.. 🙂
Thank you; this feedback means a lot.
Incredible. One of the best ones i read!!!!!! Im amazed. So so good.
Welcome back.
Its nice to warm my toes on poetry again.
… especially when the poetry is mine
😉