Wednesday, March 17, 2010

The Cosmic Poetry of Pain

life is not a bed of roses
to the soul of her silence she said
spreading her legs her sorrow
seeping as tears on his bed
the bedsheets languorous
bleeding red she was entwined
bodily in another mans head
the cosmic chemistry
of a love making
of convenience
of a listless love
that was stone dead
both in pain but
to transient time wed
she was behind
sometimes on top
sometimes below
neither here nor there
not moving ahead
in her mouth
his longings
his belongings
she held
a poetic pause
he misread
he followed
her soul
into a cavernous
darkness
of her eternity
his masthead
she led
tumescent
blood red
she wore a veil
of metaphoric
mysticism
the power
within him
could not shred

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