Eprobles-poetby E.P.Robles14 Dec 2019

i return to the wild horses within my head.
And to breathe chrysanthemum skies while i
openly weep holds no fanfare for fire.

fire can be emotionally cold as it consumes
the Art within my blood. the veins of my
soul are yellow-green in color but my
tongue is more.

and the heart is a strong bastard

that kills me every evening as the sun returns
to tomorrow over 'There.' couples are
beautiful as they harp upon each other's

lone wolves howl in pleasure and mostly
disregard the silver-white light bulb in the
sleeping sky.