I felt alive,
I had a spring in my step,
We were both there,
United,
I look into ur eyes and smile and I see the life leaving ur lips,
I watch the blood pour out of you the same way you watched the tears pour out of me,
And exactly how you let me drown,
I let the oceans consume your lungs,
I let you feel what I did,
I touch your face with my bare hands,
And feel the warmth leave you,
Your eyes leak and beg me for mercy,
But it's mute,
all I hear is the release of my pain going into you,
Like air hissing out of a balloon with substantial amounts of pleasure,
Only you knew the contents of my heart and soul,
Now you are going to die with the memory,
The memory of me killing you in cold blood,
Because how could I let you live after what you did to me?
YOU ARE READING
17th Street.
PoetryThese are short poems I wrote throughout my 17th street of life and it was the only way I deemed fit for me to heal and ascend out of all the love and heartbreak and loss I've had to deal with. I wrote them in hopes that one day I'd get to look back...
