by scott from jail
Was googling that night...
If ever there was
Something sad, well
It would be like the seeming lie I heard from her
Crawling down the street
Waiting for me, whispering:
Is it you?
Death, silk-lined like a box of good chocolates,
Smiling, sexy, clean,
With bright blue eyes and a demonic smile
Glancing with one-too-many set up photographs, waiting
Whilst I readied my future
Like an erring soul...
Copyright © 2010 - scott from jail
Published: 12/2/10 · Author's Page · Next Poem