Black Ice
looks nice
fun to hold
getting more than i want
now i'm undone
gone
fun doesn't feel so good
black ice
so cold
it burns right to the bone
should've known
alone
you'd be so cold
this is no game
but we play
any way
can't kill the pain
when it's all that i can
taste
burn it away
and begin the search
to replace
for more
loose the game
and settle the score
(October,2009, New Orleans, LA, USA)
poem by Thomas Quentin Sims
Added by Poetry Lover
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