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EXTRAPOLATIAN MOUNTIAN RANGE
smokey-hued
you're like a room
hardened by whiskey and sweat
the floors worn out by the heels
of Hate and Love
Shinning in the lights
we carve our ways
passing shift work
The lines rising
your legs thin
hurrying to arrive
and hurrying to leave
Your eyes like a mountian
stream...the curve of its
mystery, the light
surrounded by darkness..
man of the hill
I know nothing
but I remember
your summer
hand upon my
chest
and yes
deep within
is a heart
Bitumen
glittering
like frost
love runs like
a wind
now
a delicious
shiver
Editing stage:
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Comments
Roscoe Lane
Sun, 2015-05-03 02:17
Can't see,
Can't see anything to critique here, sensational piece of poetry. Regards Roscoe...
Roscoe Llane,
Religion will rip your faith off, and return
for the mask of disbelief that's left.