Fallen

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  • Loss

    Fallen

    This is for the time you let me touch you
    after the kisses we stole, confined,
    I wanted to untangle your hair, more,
    spread all my love all over you.

    All the good things that your love meant,
    I felt in your touch a tentative heat.
    If my move was repeated, strange enough,
    from my room to your flat consummation was

    while your mouth and your tongue told the truth
    something shallow was deeper than the wrath
    your juices revealed, and you tried to wipe
    the foreplay ablaze, am suspended aghast.

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    Poetry is not the expression of personality but an escape from personality.

    T. S. Eliot (1888-1965) American-English poet and playwright.

    ham8113’s Poems (3)

    Title Comments
    Title Comments
    Pronouns 1
    Three-Course Meal 0
    Fallen 0