sometimes, still

sometimes, still, in windswept dreams
he finds her living in his head

watery and fiery
in vivid lust he long thought dead

she who loved only herself and
left him with her heart of stone

since he hates her now, he’s thinking
can’t she leave his dreams alone?

Author: Beleaguered Servant

Owen "Beleaguered" Servant (a/k/a Sibelius Russell) writes poetry mostly, with an occasional pause to have a seizure. View all posts by Beleaguered Servant