Mixtures

My worse vice-

Became my most satisfying

The bitter – sweet always interchanging

And no matter which one I use

From my myriad of pallet standards

Each one- she’d rein

Tip of my tongue

Tease of my feelings

My desires, dreams

My unfinished utters

Every nuance of my being

Colored by her essence

But now- she is gone- left

And I’ve become nearly empty

Now she only reins what…haunts me

 

Poet of the Light © 2018

 

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s