Bound with gold

December 4, 2019

Bound with gold,

wine – flush cries,

running here on your prayer.
By now

If you trust and obey my words:

the evil will be gone by mine own words,

I hold him alone, on a cold trail.

Crime is past history and there are somethings you must tell me.

Something wrong with this poem?

Replies are closed for this poem.

If you or someone you know is struggling, you are not alone.

988 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline — call or text 988, 24/7. Crisis Text Line — text HELLO to 741741.

See what makes your poem unique — its voice, energy, themes, and the literary traditions it draws from.

Comments (0)

Comments are closed for this poem.