Ant Smith



Sharp is the breath before a sigh

Sharper is the tongue that tells a lie

She is the reason I survive

Shear is the mountain that I climb

Shrift is the treason that will thrive

Shifter's shapes still magnify

Short is the pleasure of a prize

Shorter is the measure of a life

Shut is the mind that cannot fly, and

Shutters blind my inner eye

Sweet is the relief between my thighs

Sweeter is the belief that I'm alive