Cold Prose

The softness of her skin

Withering, withering

Drinking the ink from her pen

Afraid then,

But braver now.

How much will she allow?

When sacred vow

Turns conscience hollow

A ghastly sigh lets out

A breeze, a dream, a cloud

Tip toeing through foggy shroud

Forgotten tombstone

Mossy ground

Memories of hungry ghosts

Latching on to silent hosts

Come close, come close

I’ll whisper in your ear

What you fear

Is drawing ever near.

I’m here, and I hear

Shivering, withering

Regretful and ashamed

Perpetrator blamed

Perpetually insane

Perpetually in pain

We claim

To know those

We had close

To overdose on

Cold prose

To wallow in

My poetry

A symphony of

Sympathy

I’m searching for your

Heartfelt lies

I’m looking for an alibi

Oh come my angel,

Don’t be shy

A way, a how, a try.