Rotting in a strangers grave.


I buried my heart
here in the cold
ground of a
strangers grave.
Among the rotting
corpse of the past.
It rests easy with
the twilights Owl
standing guard.
But sometimes as
dawn arrives
when the Owl has
taken flight, Its spirit
comes to me on
rays of sun, begging
that I take it back.

Karen Hayward ©2016

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Welcome to my blog! Here you will find different forms of creative writing, lots of swearing, erotic poetry, random thoughts, beautiful imagery, but most of all you will find a version of truth. My truth, this is the way that I see the world. However, all of my work is a form of creative writing, a combination of truth and fiction. I write to express my creativity, not my needs!

8 thoughts on “Rotting in a strangers grave.”

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