| Talking in bed is far too hard. Your back to me, thoughts disguised, no words uttered. I�m left marred, your snore my goodnight kiss. Love is shattered, a mere shard remains in this midnight abyss. Winter�s slowly passing, but inside the routine never neglects to dismiss the frigidity in this lonely bride. Words left unsaid in this harsh hour burn inside, struggle, rush to sour once-warm love, its awing power. |
| Talking In Bed |
| * this poem is an imitation of the poem "Talking in Bed" by Philip Larkin. Click here to read Larkin's poem |