Poem Tweets The Poem Was Distilled From

The Truth Hurts Sometimes


Michael Camarata

Floods follow drought:

Dreams and anguish
Freeze my blood,
Allowing me to forget
The pain inside me.

There are so many people,
And it would have played so much better,
To lose myself. . .

We are survivors
In the ecstasies which might have been:
Sexual advances,
Pure elation,
Months of anguish.
All of these are the sacred spies
Of love.

















Share and Enjoy

  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Delicious
  • LinkedIn
  • StumbleUpon
  • Add to favorites
  • Email
  • RSS
Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply