The Confession

August 

Sparkling dew

Morning sun 

Golden

Warm tired summer haze

Her sandals gingerly walk 

Her soul wishing

To stay in the car

Looking towards the wall

Her hands shake 

Stomach churns

Behind the confession door 

She sits

Pain in her heart

She fiddles her with her ring

Just like he once did

I loved him 

Someone I should not love

Nor lust after

But I love him still 

and forever will

He is married 

To the church 

He is gone 

And I 

In shambles

The day before my birthday

Our town crumbled down 

From straight lined wind

The town whispered

Gossiped

Pointed fingers

Was God mad? 

Was my love

A sin? 

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

A lot said in the words dear Kathryn. Love that is sin. Leave us empty and unfulfilled. You made the believe and understand the thoughts and the emotions. Thank you for sharing the powerful words.
Coyote