if love could be culled
like the lamb of the field
i could call you my own
the raging sea will come round
and pull me away
from the glow of your skin
alone is only hopeful
when sleeping has no meaning
so will you love me again
or will the sun turn to ash
as the song plays out
and reap what you've sewn in me
iscariot, my darling dove
is the cold just sound enough
iscariot, my last remorse
will you find me in the darkness
where our blood turned into
wine for the freezing
you will find me once again
sacred heart
pull me from my absence
and hold dearly to my call
yearn for the morrow
and the marrow of my bones
oh love is not safe
but break me from end to end
and tell me you'll see again
the blind will call you beautiful
iscariot, come from the heavens
lay me deep into your heart
iscariot, left to be
no grave could keep me from you
YOU ARE READING
if not human
Poetrythe anthology of emotion, the passing of life, the epilogue of pure, unfiltered regret this is "if not human" poems, prose and stories from the dark
