Sunsets
We don't look back nor forward
for anything or anyone but the sun
that stalks our obstinate confusion
reckoning the gilded mouth
of the slavering twilit horizon
that is ravenously swallowing us
I lift my sinewy hands and vied
to gather the yellow light
and succumb to its descend
until the warmth dissipate
and the darkness fecundates
And the nights would be nothing
but the shards you have left
in cold serrated pieces
and I will bleed lecherously
just so I can keep them.
poem by Norman Santos
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
