Litkicks Message Board Archive


Posted to Action Poetry

she pleased me by not moving an inch
by never cleaning the window
of her soul
and I kept believing in the enjoyment.

all illusions do end
they explode like a mine
stepped on by tired soldiers

My blood inside me begs
to open up my heart again,
for it turned black and shallow

A new gateway to comfort
and claim a new scroll,
unwritten, white as a juvenile soul