Nov
02
Filed Under (Journals) by Turner on 02-11-2012

Journal 2
Turner Sheehan

Poem of attack

 

The way your hair

flows down your back

makes me want to
cut it in the night.

 

Your ever-present smile
poisons my good day.

 

Oh how I wish
your voice, which rings like a bell,
would for once be silent.

 

I rue the day you pranced into my life.
Please,
prance back out again.

 

Comments are closed.

css.php