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In Search of Comfort
April 28, 2014
What lips your lips have kissed, and where, and why,
I know not who, or where, but why is clear.
You’ve been in search for your life-long “dear”,
Ghostly nights of sin not love
Have asked your repentance, but you shoved
Your way through meager lads
With a heavy soul, and going mad.
Winter’s vanquished summer’s folly
You’re now alone with melancholy.
The men had neither love nor meaning.
Hope has made its intervening.
Now sings no longer your song of lust,
Filled with regrets and smell of musk
© Alex B., Rome, NY
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