Futurepresent by Josha Skye |
The Rooms
|
September 07, 2001
Futurepresent
And the timbre of your voice, I do not feel rebuffed. I despised it when you froze the fire that ignites my soul finally doing me in.
And the flick of your wrist, I do not see discarded ashes. Crushed cigarettes in the ashtray your lipstick still kissing them makes me envious for your lips.
Comments please: josha_skye@yahoo.com
|
Romance
| Poetry | Historical |
Drama | Action |
SciFi/Fan | Mystery |
|
All stories and poems on this site are copyrighted and cannot be reposted without permission. |
|