Poem: You’ll hurt worse

By: Linda M. Crate

sad girl

i wanted to be
your white winged
dove,
your only love;
but instead i was your
white winged raven
left craving your touch—
i know to you
none of this meant very
much,
and i was just another
body that graced
your bed;
an audience of leaves
sang to me
in that passionate autumn kiss—
i thought it
meant forever
not that our bonds would be
severed,
but perhaps that’s the
price i pay for
giving my heart and flowers to a wolf;
not all of them are kind,
but the consequence of
vengeance taken
against you will be worse—
it will burn hotter
than the angriest flames of
stars.

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