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This is where we laid our head by ~vicioussuspicious:iconvicioussuspicious:



This is where we laid our head,
an old forgotten lined bed,
rife with stones worn to flints,
like time itself,
a knife adrift.
Sharp with time,
sharp with memory,
a cut,
a show,
a spiteful mummery.
:iconvicioussuspicious:

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:icondoomhobbit:
I still much enjoy the poetry you post.

--
--------------------------------------------
"I'm going to make out in the coat room, don't eat my chicken."
"That's going on your tombstone."

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June 13
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