moving on hope
Learn more about other poetry terms
The next time I meet
a bitter person I will
speak softly
give them my hands
to hold , to help
and all my sugar
to soak up in their skin
because I now now it is
the absence of sweetness
This dark plague is creeping-
Crawling, seeking, sleeking-
Upon me it smothers my lungs,
And though I wish for you to stay
I must ask you to look away.
Take my love and leave.
