Poems from CH

CH's picture
Everyday must be its own
Her
I've been fucking her every night Loving her Pleasing her Draining in to her   She bleeds me dry With every little death And breathes life...
you cannot call upon me for no one shall respond you cannot summon me for i have no name.    you cannot ask me for the query lacks...
Oh but what sorrow!  Is to die with your touch Damned with knowledge Of the end to us.    For no God Could preserve our tale No painting...
The last I dreamt of her Brushstrokes of tattered wisps flitted against my cheeks Phantom sparks skittered across twice-burnt matchsticks...
It frames your face as gently as a blossom Curling around and away from the rounded edges Of your chin and cheek   You're as lovely as the...

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