The Crying Light

by Ben Pickard   Apr 20, 2020

bleed the moon of life,
and the jasmine scent of your skin
stagnates with the weight of the past,
I come to understand the reason for my claustrophobia:

Your beruffled tresses are lank,
your hands are cold
and your eyes are lifeless lagoons
that plummet eternity's depths.

You have left me.


Ben Pickard 2020


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Latest Comments

  • 1 month ago

    by Em (marmite)

    Just wow... X

  • 1 month ago

    by Tanya Southey

    Wonderful poem. Such a well-deserved win. :)

  • 1 month ago

    by Star

    Why do you have a problem with your free verse?
    I think they’re great :)

    • 1 month ago

      by Ben Pickard

      Thanks, Star. Not so much a problem, it just doesn't come as naturally to me. It's funny because I had never written any free verse until joining this site in 2015, and now I rather enjoy it!

  • 1 month ago

    by Matt Carroll

    Exemplary ???? well done, sir.

  • 1 month ago

    by Darren

    Congrats Ben.

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