By J.L. Moore
Wicked longing,
Binds it in the burning breast.
Having lost what was never won,
Sorrow fills the emptiness
It wakes and wanes,
It churns and boils,
It's desperate cries are never heard
Love bleeds from the broken heart,
And bitterness engulfs the fractured soul.
YOU ARE READING
The Life Is In The Blood
PoetryRanked #392 in Poetry 10/29/2016 Featured Story in @_Theveilednight_ Gripping Tales List Original poems, by (as my youngest son says) a 14 year old goth chick living in a 49 year old body. ATTENTION: If you are reading this story on any other platf...
