You loved me because I am a poet
I wrestled with the unreality of words
that never allowed me or reality entry
on to the white space as more than mere black marks
except when I was in your arms
No words could match your skin tone
or the lushness of the feel of your flesh
in my hands of love
You were the age old poem
I was writing on a white bed
in brown ink with smiles for shelter
to stop myself from suicide
that always tempted me before the act
of wordshed
that never said anything.
Destiny Poets
Uniting and celebrating the best "Writers" and "Poetry" from around the world centred out of Destiny Church Wakefield
” Wordshed “, accomplishes the difficult poetic task of the narrator’s voice managing to convey world weariness without becoming lachrymose.
Thanks, Louis, yesterday was Beckett’s b’day and not knowing it I wrote this tribute.
An emotional shed, lovely as ever from Dr Koshy!
ty sangeeta
An admirable write. Koshy
ty gopal 🙂