JaneA Poem by S. S. Allen
You travel through the wind. But never once through my pile of leaves You are infectious Crawl up my spine. Meningitis. When you speak, it is neither to me Nor of me, But I listen anyways. Your lashes extend over your
cheekbones. Just like the flowing Baltic Yes, I have counted each one I will myself to stop I know my reverie could never come
true But damn…I just can’t get over you. As I turn the pages of Jane Eyre, I felt like her. Poor servant girl. Mr. Rochester spitefully withholds
his love. “Good-night, my-" He stopped, Bit his lip, and abruptly left...” Knowing it’s all she ever needed. Insatiable kisses and red roses, a finicky art piece Her love suffers, her beauty wanes. Our affection is one-sided. Wouldn’t you agree Miss Jane? © 2016 S. S. Allen |
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2 Reviews Added on November 27, 2016 Last Updated on November 27, 2016 Author
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