A Sharp Edged Spectre
She took everything I own,
but when I do consider
If only she had asked, I
would have given it to her
I feel my guts now longing
to be in another place,
but they tarry, not yet torn
from my heathen humbled waist
I have borne this darkened pit
in my empty frontal lobe
I can see no bottom, plus
feel the distance of the globe
My heart drops to my stomach,
and then slowly my eyes shut,
but instead of escape, see
the one I love and lust
But wait.
Do I trust?
This one I sense to love and lust?
Her gentle bust could bust enough
to rust my rough, but no complaint, for
if she hurt me, reel the pain
A jab from her is better than
to await response in vain.



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