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Do Whatever

To convince you that I’m not a ghost or stranger

Wind in the air or a mist on the range or

Rainbows just after and a sun blaze with anger

Red in the face with passion

It is not the things I care not for, those will pass

The things I have hope for, I want to last 

Like the linger of your scent or nails running down my arm

In peace as we lie just outside of harm

Where at any moment, to disagree

We all could implode, viciously

The way I see you look at me

Maybe, there is only one 

© The Sad Owl

Categories: poetry Prose

Tagged as:

The Sad Owl

I'm just here. Until I'm not.

3 replies

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