the incessant urge
for you to devour everything in your wake
never ceases to exist.
not once are you satisfied.
never do you feel fulfilled.
you consume until the soul of your victim
sputters in agony,
begging for nothing more than a release.
a release you seized your prey in;
forcing them to experience
nothing but torment,
until their bittersweet end.
it is a continuous cycle,
one that not even the strongest
nor the most intellectual of people
could deter you from.
yet, when i am near,
the desire simply vanishes.
your lips refuse to brush upon mine.
your limbs refuse to entangle.
your mind refuses to accept,
and your heart refuses to reciprocate
even an ounce of the tenderness i shower you with.
no longer do you crave the feeling,
that you feasted upon for so long.
and i cannot help but wonder
how i, the most ordinary of people,
made you, the greediest of men,
fall to abstinence.
YOU ARE READING
𝐓𝐈𝐏 𝐎𝐅 𝐌𝐘 𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐔𝐄, poetry
Poetryeverything I want to say is at the tip of my tongue... original poetry cover by ( @voidslunatic )
