A PHART IN THE NIGHT

Now I understand, say you, but is it

In between the sheets of inflamed writing

That I beckon you forth and come

With me to the lines of scar tissued areas

Where I have been injured by you

And scornful neglected commentary

About my poems?

I like it when you calmly love me but not

When you start the realisation that I am but a phart

In the night.

Bye!

B

 

COPYRIGHT BRUCE E SAUNDERS 2018

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