dondoucette

A poem I wrote a long time ago called Rancid Love.

Viciously tortured
Your perfume lingers
I feel the hate in your rancid love

Your touch is a thousand thorns
Why do I crave it so

I see your lips move but all I hear is what youre not saying.

What has become of our love
our walks, our talks, holding hands
fucking on everything in sight

My want goes unfulfilled.