you have it under my nose <br />rubbed <br />fruit of the land none bland <br />sweet peas to apricots <br />plums pitied paired <br />what <br />deliciousness transgenders <br />transgression <br />tongueless <br />how did they do you <br />is wasted blind on <br />sleeveless <br />worms who have no sense <br />that taste of boiled <br />dirt is <br />death <br />could you not call me to <br />show her this lottery ticket <br />that won your winds of reaping <br />tearing pain joints seperated <br />from plants blossom of spring <br />just one 0 death who gnaws on <br />eternity's woman is bones gratis <br />0 death we can broker deals that <br />makes the strong draw back the <br />bridge of winters snow to give all <br />lost abandoned never claimed <br />enigmas that drives your dream to <br />harvest all plums in reapers reach.<br /><br />Is It Poetry<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/death-do-her/
