Wild

 


Wild

 Blue eyes gloss as you stare through me,

White-knuckled hands trapped within my own.

My pained attempts to clutch you tight

Drive deep the wedge, a rosy thorn.

Your smile still shows despite the beat

Of restless heart eager to fly;

The pulse of something incomplete

That will not quiet, will not lie.

O' fickle queen, how far you roam

To chase the voice of that which leads,

While helplessly I cling to hope

That your blue eyes look back to me.


J.M. Rogers

 

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