Poem 3
Perishable Love
1 min · 1 min left
My mind slipped into far-away places where gold coins fell from willow trees and crystals bloomed each Spring. A place where love was tangible ripe and ready to pick, all full of sweet nectar colored deep plum red.
I reached to pick the fruited love it perished in my hand illusions shattered and crumbled cutting the souls of my feet dripping spoilage from between my ears.