is it foolish of me to wish upon the shooting stars and ask the dying light to let me love myself like you did?
you kissed me in autumn
your lips breathed spring in me
the kind that resides in the realm of Eden
the kind of spring that is eternal and innocent
the kind that the devil inside of me couldn't corrupt
now that you're gone, the flowers are withering away
only thorns remain
they prick and pierce me in places you caressed
as if reminding me that a sinner like me could never deserve a saint like you
you used to worship me with your hands and i would slit you open with my tongue
you gave me all you could and i took everything
i devoured your love like a beast until there was nothing left for you to offer
only haunting memories and ghostly whispers
i've devoured lovers after you
so many that i've lost count
but only you left me wanting for more
only you left me wanting to be worshipped
only you left me wanting to be loved in the ways only you could
it makes me wonder if you were a saint after all or if you knew all along, how cruel it was to offer me a springtide knowing that everything blooms brightest just before it dies a tragic death
is it foolish of me to say, i'd still die a thousand deaths to feel you grow flowers in my veins again?
YOU ARE READING
B R E A T H E
Poetry❝ I took a deep breath and listened to the old brag of my heart. I am, I am, I am. ❞ - Sylvia Plath Just a collection of all the words that breathe inside of me. Completed: 12 April 2021
