PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

I can't touch your face again

It bit me the last time I tried

I can't kiss your fingers

They're clenched with rage again



And through this morning's mirror

With the wind biting the mailman

And through this morning's tears

With the moon accusing me of treason

I would scream into the sky's grey shroud

And run into the forest's arms

Crying softly

Let me run with you, my love,

And howl into the morning mirror



I can't stroke your hair again

It's matted with twigs and mud and burrs

I can't watch you lick your lips

As we dine you eye the waiter hungrily



And through this morning's mirror

With the rain filling your ears

And through this morning's clear

Sweat your changing heart cried

I would scream with all the passion

Of one denied the hunt and kill

Let me call you one more time

And howl into the morning mirror