Her starving face

by on February 23, 2020 :: 0 comments

Winter smell:
Asphalt echoes, on the road.
And I am begging beside:
The alms of life.

A battered soul,
Endangered to live.
And a beleaguered life,
Whose inward battle, looking for;
A foothold to rescue
An injured life, again.

Butchered heart
Collecting debris of,
A broken love, to re-arrange;
Stitching the wounds.
And an emulating hope,
To immolate the pain,
Trying to recuperate:
Her starving face.

editors note:

Begging AND choosing… – mh clay

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