2/18/2019 0 Comments there is no love songThere is no love song for us, my dear
No bouquet of red roses, no Empty champagne flutes, No glorious consummation. The moon doesn’t glow softly over our skin, The stars don’t dance in the eyes of our beholders. Sweet nothings don’t fill our ears as lover’s Hands caress our prone bodies. We’re rather ugly, really. There’s no promise of forever No sighs for the slippage of time No whispers of remember when – We’ll grow decrepit together And that’s about it.
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ck.kramer
edgy contemporary literature. Archives
March 2019
CategoriesAll Farming Fiction Flash Fiction Kenya Outdoors Parable Politics Short Story |