The Retreat

Lain in charcoal colored sheets,
under cries from the upstairs neighbors.
Darling so naive,
at the Independence Harbor,
over the river,
formatted waves;
sharing old-written poetry,
and placing bets on a Wednesday.

Indulged in riven sin,
toxins in the mouth,
fingertips softly swabbed,
a gentle cry,
from her.

To love you is to accept expiration;

Overwhelmed with crimson tears,
But i’m back in the palms of my baby.

Reviews

[poetgurl]

Overwhelmed with crimson tears,
But i’m back in the palms of my baby.

I like these lines, i feel this as a heart tugging write, nicely expressed

[lovelymarina]

Thank you dearly for your kind review,

much appreciated,

Marina :)

[jacob erin-cilberto]

I am trying to figure out where this poem is sending me, but I love it.
It is almost like a loved one is deathly ill.
the speaker shares herself with him, knowing his disease is terminal.
but overwhelmed with tears she still wants to be in his palms, right up to end.
lovely imagery in this piece.
j.

[lovelymarina]

Glad you came up with your own imagery for the poem and thoroughly enjoyed it. Means a lot as always ….

Marina :)