Through You

by F.I. - Cancer

My hands hurt
yet no longer - that skirt.
We chased the nights together
our hearts were tarred and feathered.

Noe cut, dripping heavy with blood.
I scream and swear, and pray to above.
Bullets hurt, yet not like this.
That touch, feeling in my soul, will I miss?

For now I carry on.
Bless my heart at every dawn.
Chase it all away for a few, 
and ceaselessly flow in through you.

Birth sign: Cancer
Date created: 2000-06-14 02:13:59
Last updated: 2021-03-03 14:42:23
Poem ID: 56578

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