Image courtesy of Flickr and the Creative Commons license (http://tiny.cc/rfpp8y)
I bloom darkly at your words.
Such nice things you have
on your tongue, silver and
gold that sink like liquid into the
mouths of my hungry children–
these thoughts are my children,
you see, the flesh has all but
abandoned me for better coasts
and cleaner air and heavier gravity–
but in this holy space of darkness,
petals like forgiveness float in the
breezes of memory where we walked
slowly together after a sad day
and searched all night for your fear.
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About the Creator
Robert Crisp
Robert Crisp currently hides out in Savannah, GA, where he teaches English and prays for cooler weather. He writes poetry and music. Learn more at www.nigthshadegallery.com and www.soundcloud.com/robertcrisp.
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