Erotic Poetry – “The Bough, the Bush, and the Berry” – Romance – 10/28/2019

In all I crave, I stand before shore and ship,
At the lash of some sailor and his whip.
At the command of God above, and pauper below,
I am here to make a home in the loneliness of a tide,
And there are memories in mind.
And, in my arms,
Where blood makes stains against my long-coat,
A woman pules and grieves newest after newest tear,
For an ending to what made her at a loss
For something I aimed to steal,
Though, had brought myself to take.

Virginity from womanhood, and I am not the thief in the night,
But, I am the man barren in his guilt.
There is blood upon a dagger, a wound in a woman,
And fewer than ever, places to perform my suicide.

There is this lonely ocean,
With tides against my ankles,
And, I want nothing more than to say farewell,
To all the world and its woes,
For I believe I’ve caused
Them all, and then some more.

My guilt is this ocean, and this ocean is my home,
Its tide, as well, my place to feel a belonging,
For distance, as well as certainty
To be calm, as well as afraid,
Of where to go, in my place among the waves.

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