Guest Poet Syyd Raven
bitter, one kiss,
my lips to your eyes
withered and soft wet cocoons of
away from everything you ever knew
and I loved you in my own way,
I really loved you
dying in my hands
manipulated and drunk
in your enormous shadow
whispering smeared white gifts of love
in the cool black bed of your man
the enormous wax love
hangs limply beneath a dirty
in the confession
of your deadliest hour
Syyd Raven's questions:
Question 1 Does the reader experience a sense of
subterfuge between the title and content?
Question 2 Is it clear there is a feeling of an ending of a relationship by word play?
Question 3 Would the poem have more meaning were it titled "Confessore"?
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