Were wolf
It groans, with no words.
The loving skin, unfaithful,
sweaty, my hand caresses
furious inspiration.
I hear werewolf in my head savaging
dreams of fur, & moonlight hunters,
with bloody & yellow moon shape eyes
wandering in open field,
landscape of a graveyard of eternal spirit.
Naked, with appetite,
feeding of lambs and wild hare meat.
Damned is my soul,
Till the rise of a new day light.
poem by Luca Menin
Added by Poetry Lover
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