True love is a beast when named.
Slipping through fingers,
An unbridled Colt,
Holding to ransom
With a shadow,
Wayning,
An ebb like unmorphiated pain.
Thursday, 5 August 2010
Killing, with words
Posted by
Taren
at
12:43
The occasional writings and poems of Taren McCallan-Moore.
True love is a beast when named.
Slipping through fingers,
An unbridled Colt,
Holding to ransom
With a shadow,
Wayning,
An ebb like unmorphiated pain.
Posted by
Taren
at
12:43