The dead's love poem
By: Stephanie May
Eighteen never been kissed
Never been touched
Eighteen years of nothing much.
Laying in my box of due,
Having mourners crying for me soon.
Sitting on the edge of death,
I see a boy who had long been laid to rest.
I am scared to take his hand,
Because within is another land.
Do I do it, Do I stand?
Nothing left to lose, nothing but sand.
I take his hand to no mans land.
To find things only ones like us can.
In his night sky eyes has come to be,
A boy, a child just like me.
Eighteen never been kissed
Never been touched
Eighteen years of my true lover's first touch.
YOU ARE READING
The Reaper's Keeper (UNEDITED)
RomanceI always thought that when you die that would be the end and you would see a bright light and the pearly gates on a little white fluffy cloud, if you were lucky. But what if death was not the end, but only the beginning? What if you came back, but c...
