J
Joseph
Guest
I've written a handful of poems in my life, usually stupid limericks! So when something comes to me, I share it.
haunted
patient and slow, desolate and cold, immortal, he comes for me
in those wide open places, under an exposed february sky
in those cozy and cramped spaces, under a blanket where i lie
with each visit, he chips away a small piece
he mixes agony and pain, with fear and sorrow
he promises me i'll never have a lonely tomorrow
he knows me like no other, grain for grain
he, the eroder of souls
haunted
patient and slow, desolate and cold, immortal, he comes for me
in those wide open places, under an exposed february sky
in those cozy and cramped spaces, under a blanket where i lie
with each visit, he chips away a small piece
he mixes agony and pain, with fear and sorrow
he promises me i'll never have a lonely tomorrow
he knows me like no other, grain for grain
he, the eroder of souls