Ache.

Knowledge of this
pain,
Splayed bare and
plain,

Locked, spiritually
barren...Drained,
Whatever was that
thing,
What ever was it
named?

What was that title
for its' face,
That abode, some
distant place,

Supplanted, separated
from her grace,
Kneeling, begging, screaming
in this disgrace...
-END-
(C) D.C. Chapman
10/11/2013