Raw Poetry by Rev. Shakes Spear
Withered My love comes closer Begging for a kiss But I pull away because I can’t resist The lure of the stranger Who just may love me more I’m really not a cheater but my heart is a whore. I love the juicy promise Of living my wet dream But a crop I cannot harvest for I’ve wasted all my seeds. I traded them for trinkets Now broken and forgotten So the useless fruit that I bear is bitter, dry or rotten. 2-13-24