these strange days
come slipping
between bedsheets in
the night, whispering
sweet nothings like
long lost lovers
looking for
a last lusty kiss
before our dying
our winter's
creeping fingers
appear as frost on
silvered glass
frost on silvered glass
share:
7 responses to “frost on silvered glass”
Morbid love and still beautiful
Thank you, sir
Ah, the mind in the dark and all its wanderings. And who’s to say what is true?
Great piece, Michael.
I certainly don’t have a clue as to what is true anymore. Thanks Chris.
Generally that which seems least likely, useful or profitable 🤣
Yeah. Useful and profitable seem to be allergic to me 😆
Same boat!!