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by Ben Pickard Apr 20, 2020
Sadness, depression /
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
by Em (marmite)
Just wow... X
by Tanya Southey
Wonderful poem. Such a well-deserved win. :)
Why do you have a problem with your free verse?
I think they’re great :)
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!
by Matt Carroll
Exemplary ???? well done, sir.
Thank you, Darren and Matt.
by Poet on the Piano