Climb the highest mountain, punch the face of god

It Isn't Love

His love, as daft as child's play,
Scars the veins of my heart.
I expel him from my dreams,
Throw the beauty of him
In an unmarked grave and
Stab the knife in my belly.
Skewered and draining, I
Find memories in a dusty
Dresser, stale and raw.
The hours tick away, and
It isn't long till I've been
Dropped in that six foot hole.

9-23-10


Comment On This Poem --- Vote for this poem
It Isn`t Love

378,231 Poems Read

Sponsors