Poem 392 – You Slap Me With Your Glove

So you slap me with your glove,
We draw blades and prepare our dance,
Ready to turn and cut until wounded or fallen,
For neither of us will willingly concede.
But we may make a last request,
And here, therefore, is mine;
If I must die, let me die as I have lived –
In lies and in deceit.

Advertisements

Tell us what you thought, or if to you these words are naught.

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s