“Known for a thousand steals,
For a million deals
And Bordeaux of gold.
Dreaded for poison wine,
For every Red sign
And a crooked soul.
On every shattered,
Broken frame.
Daringly writing name,
of my own.
You'll know, if I played a role.
And she got her tea
from the old brewery,
Her withered Merlot.
She cooked up Oleander.
Mythical mornings dear,
Behind the savvy door.
With every lantern,
holy grace.
The smile sheathing your face
was your sorrow.
You'll know, if I played a role.”
***
[26 March 2021; 6:15 pm]
YOU ARE READING
Excerpts from an old diary
PoetryFeel free to vote and comment if you enjoy reading! (Previously known as "Poetry On Fingertips") •2nd Position in The Crown Awards 2020 •#1 in #poetryislife -28/June/2020 •#1 in #poetrylovers -26/Feb/2019 And plz don't copy my book, Truyen.
