MusingsPoetry

Gagging Thoughts

It sleeps within the shell
And when it wakes,
It’s neither the hunger of the heart,
Nor meals for the eyes.

When afternoon becomes night,
The night; sickness
Would you still nurse the shell?

When legs that gazes earth,
Now gazers of themselves,
And pain; wine,
Would your throat be luscious to belch love?

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