slippery pitter patter in the rainfall of painful beginnings
You must login to vote
my hands are soft but my arms are weak with treason
tears dropped onto hardened stones that shift without reason
look into my depths and search out the failed winnings
her supple lips touched the crimson breath flowing from my ribs
my hairs were counted and named with congregated apprehension.
each time she dived into my senses and tickled my comprehension.
so I grasped my infant and tore her from the velvet of her crib.
some of us just fall into hell.