Feigned nonchalance does not fool
My body
Your solace is arrhythmia
The wobbling, teetering
Too-loud heartbeat Of
your captive
Pen-mate
Your solace is arrhythmia
A fluctuating victory
Whose only term:
I suffer.
Feigned nonchalance does not fool
My body
Your solace is arrhythmia
The wobbling, teetering
Too-loud heartbeat Of
your captive
Pen-mate
Your solace is arrhythmia
A fluctuating victory
Whose only term:
I suffer.
Ranjani on 2009.08.10
That is a freaking INTENSE title. I expected WRATH to spew up from the page when I opened it. Very happy this did not happen, and thank you for the lovely poem.
Ranjani on 2009.08.10
And I know it’s from the Bible. I looked it up for kicks