… the inner gauge is rising to its peak …
Anger raises its head
as I thrash in my bed.
The hot flush of pink is flowing.
To my brow, it isn’t slowing.
I remember his aqua eyes
as he retold his many lies.
I watched the grim line of his frown
as he turned my world upside down.
I won’t let him ruin my night.
I need him out of my sight.
No more meetings in the dark
beneath the elm in the park.
No more whispers as we walk.
I know the town loves to talk.
I say goodbye to my fickle love
as the moon bows its head above.







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-Zach
It has no sustenance and the bling soon disappears from the aqua, after the brush of passion is gone, Nice poetry today Susanne.
Ron
Love ya!
Jane