Putrid

Putrid

I don’t want your love

something is amiss,

your heart is made of stone

I don’t want your kiss.

I don’t need your words

sharpened in their charms

Never will I find

comfort in your arms.

I don’t need your soul

breathing down on me,

putrid eyes of hate

all I ever see.

I don’t want to give

your abuse my head,

truthfully I cry

inside I am dead.

©Jacqui Slade

Advertisements