Like a snake he will shed
images that fill your head with dread
Under disguise in a flower bed
hissing & denying anything he’s said
Ole Copperhead is seeing red
He’s like an atomic warhead
A nasty fungus here to spread
disease & lies & pure bloodshed
© Delia Ross. 2019
Dark hair brown-eyed boy
get to know me
There are fields of gratitude to plow
The crown of my joy
and topic of every story
With you anything I’ll allow
© Delia Ross. 2019
The world sleeps
It passes noise for confusion
Sleep for delusion
Death it still creeps
© Delia Ross. 2019
In these pages he’s alive
In these words we do survive
In these moments nothing but time
Memories without a hard drive
We get by, we drive, we fly
No suffering when amongst a friend
But these words won’t bring him back again
No these words won’t bring him back again
The days on pages never end
The nights play out as you intend
He’ll heed the call when you contend
But these words won’t bring him back again
Said these words won’t bring him back
No these words won’t bring me back
© Delia Ross. 2019
Every minute peels across my pride
Seething into cracks where it may hide
His words poison worse than cyanide
Just remember his heart already died
Unto the moon I do confide
A confidant down by the roadside
He uses pain like trails to be a guide
Reaching him requires more than stride
A sign on the door reads “occupied”
It’s partially true but somewhere a lie
Pictures of smiles and times that we cried
Hidden from view and a prying eye
© Delia Ross. 2019
Heartache at breakfast
It’s the meal of the week
Leaves you so malnourished
You can’t get on your feet
© Delia Ross. 2019
You say there’s no reason for our unfriending
But why do I feel like it’s always near ending
We never even got a proper beginning
There’s always another you are attending
And here I go with more words of offending
I wish these messages I would stop sending
Or maybe more kindness from you is worth lending
If you are confused I am too comprehending
These situations that keep us from ascending
I’ll do what I can to keep from descending
I’m grateful for you and will go on defending
Thank you for allowing my childish venting
At least you’ll never find me pretending
© Delia Ross. 2019
