"It is impossible to relax before she sleeps,
Until she grows at ease in her mortal hell."
"Pillow Talk" is a poetry collection that touches upon various topics, chosen through word prompts from the @poetreehouse-- jumping in to the "In the Tree A...
He was her muse, and her heart, Yet somehow she longed to depart, For her intrusive dark thoughts clung, Tragic and strange, those words unsung. Oh he was so generously cut, nonconformist, She loved him without either of them knowing.
Euphonious voice, laugh lines so evil, Crafty hands, they were growing feeble. Grey hair, luminous grey eyes, young soul, You could not yet see her growing old at all. With the passing of time she saw him change, Unable to live the hours, she feared his quietus.
He was her muse, and her heart, Their intricate souls not meant to part, But she was shamefully spineless, running. Senior, her head on the pillow, almost crying, She understood in the end, the time she could have had with him.
This work is protected by copyright and should not be copied, downloaded, translated or used in any way without my expressed consent. Please don't steal it. Thank you!
