At the Tavern of Inner Beauty
the beer is cold
the whiskey Irish
& the door is always open

At the Tavern of Inner Beauty<br>the beer is cold<br>the whiskey Irish<br>& the door is always open

Thursday, January 19, 2012

Fickle

by Douglas Polk

As if I finally found a home,
between her legs,
She in my arms the only times,
my soul untroubled,
even though her eyes could look upon my soul,
yet after a time her ability to do so became uncomfortable,
I no longer wanted a home,
but would rather wander the world,
Free and alone.

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