Only in my dreams,
Does the shame seep beneath the seams,
Your haunting image left it's impression,
Your vulgar actions taught me a lession,
Hasty movement left me in a trance,
I can only beg for a second chance,
My tears are left for your speculation,
Then I realize it's just my imagination,
The scars burn deep beneath their lesions,
They further more expression my deepest confusions,
Night after night with the repeated sordid themes,
Occur once more but only in my dreams.
If you are writing from your
If you are writing from your own truths I would isten to Paul...The poem is written beautifully.
~peace~
..............
...and he asked her, "do you write poetry? Because I feel as if I am the ink that flows from your quill."
"No", she replied, "but I have experienced it. "