Death’s Lies

The soft, inviting slumber of the dead, 
the comfort found when buried underground—
all lies. Nothing is true in what she said.
And now I lie forlorn in death's dark hole,
entombed below where none can ever know.
To her I'm wed; no power can anole.

Leave a comment

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.