he watched her, he watched her spill her guts
letting this man this vile man seep into her pours
her guts her being.
why could it not be I he cried
he knew he would build a warm casket for her guts
treat them so kindly so freshly
little did he know, the face that he had never devoured spilt guts
means he does not understand the ramifications
after your first taste them, they become sour and unwanted
it turns to lust and gluttony
just predatorial, like a wolf
a wolf screaming alone at the moon.
2 comments:
want to be poem pen pals?
myspace.com/deanauribe
there's sum poems on there
i like yours
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