Beautiful Lies
A moment to moment
question of chance,
Or a preconceived notion
unzipping my pants.
Tell me again,
that lie that i believe.
Tell me it's June,
on all hallows eve.
Maybe it's the way you leave me,
all tethered for return.
Maybe it's the way you fall out;
your sexy crash and burn.
Poetry is not a turning loose of emotion, but an escape from emotion.
T. S. Eliot (1888-1965) American-English poet and playwright.
| Title | Comments | Submitted |
|---|---|---|
| Title | Comments | Submitted |
| Violator | 0 | 10/15/2009 |
| That Thing | 1 | 10/14/2009 |
| Fixation | 0 | 10/14/2009 |
| Beautiful Lies | 0 | 10/14/2009 |
| Rocket Science | 1 | 10/13/2009 |
| Oceans | 1 | 10/13/2009 |
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