She let him run his fingers through her hair.
Sometimes she let him tear them from their roots.
She’d let him sing poems of care,
Sometimes let him spill venom and be rude.
She was his slave.
Sometimes his muse.
To her, he will always be, just another man.
Poet and his muse
PS: My tenth contribution to NaPoWriMo.
Picture courtesy:
 | Jackjones on I’m Angry |
 | mitchellez on I’m Angry |
| Jackjones on I’m Angry |
| mitchellez on Happy Birthday Handsome |
| mitchellez on Rich |
Live Life An Extra Mile!
Love Travel Meditate
living life in conscious reality
Life happens today
I rant and write ;)
Running, Writing, Real Life Experiences & Relatable Content.
Travel for Fun and Adventure
Your Friendly Neighbourhood Culturisms
I Bleed Words Sometimes
Here's me.
transcribed by Suezelle
Strange, unusual, rare; marvellous world invented by me. Fantasy or not, you decide.
My scribbles
The Desert Diaries by Adrine D'mello
Thought Catalog is a digital youth culture magazine dedicated to your stories and ideas.
When you got nothing, you got nothing to lose. — Dylan.
My musings, writings, photography & friendship shared on WordPress.com site
Poetry, story and real life. Once soldier, busnessman, grandfather and Poet.
Wonderful, and so true as anyone who has survived a violent relationship will confirm
April 15, 2013 at 9:25 pm
🙂 It’s about the violence some women endure calling it their fate.
Thanks for stopping by Dave.
April 15, 2013 at 9:29 pm
Absolutely love this one. This is very similar to how I would have written this thought.
April 17, 2013 at 12:38 am
Thank you! 🙂
April 17, 2013 at 7:49 am
O wow. What a take this poem has.
April 19, 2013 at 3:43 pm
🙂 Thanks.
April 19, 2013 at 8:05 pm
You’ve hit the nail on the head my friend, and driven it deep inside. Keep the ink flowing.
April 20, 2013 at 1:09 pm
I’m sadistic like that! 😉
April 20, 2013 at 1:57 pm
Hello , you are awsome writer, i love your site
[url=http://thefightbetting.com]MMA odds[/url]
May 12, 2013 at 11:45 am