Sep 20, 2005 14:44
Sitting in this
hole of once was,
dirt piled around,
up to my knees,
up to my eyes.
Fearing the contours
of your face,
the deep intensity of your eyes,
your lips, clenched tight,
and washed-out white.
Love me,
while the insects seem to squirm, and squeal,
about my eyes, about my face.
Save me,
from this darkened state of being,
while the earthy smells can soothe,
nothing would be better than a smile,
pulling aross your face.
---
Feedback pleeeeeasseee? I'm being deprived of it.
poetry