the sinner sat on a pile of bones
stared down at the burning ring on his hand
and as he looked up at the window
he thought to himself
purity is a stranger
and happiness is for fools
then he broke his heart
in a pool of forbidden writing
and cried for he was lonely again
Posts Tagged ‘poetry’
honesty
Saturday, August 9th, 1997the tree and the reed
Sunday, February 2nd, 1992a poem. written long ago. (more…)