Poemhead

Desperate Heart

 

There are no arms to hold me, when I wish to be held
Only a distant memory of perspiration under your spell

Its not your ghost that haunts me, on nights when I’m alone
But the scars of burnt flesh from where your light shone

You may never know how you killed me, or the little ways you brought me back
But if this missive reaches you l hope your heart is free from attack

I’ve squandered all I had to try and make it right
Yet here I sit in destitute of your love and your light

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