Why do I keep asking my murderers for Love?
This time my corpse was abandoned hanging in the air from the awkward silence after you hesitated to kiss me
In your reluctance, I found my death.
Yet still, I know that I'll find myself here again tomorrow
Flowers in hand and your knife in my stomach cutting the butterflies loose
Just for me to swallow them again
How did we end up here?
Perhaps after telling you too many secrets you fell in love with seeing me vulnerable
So you only kiss me after you've bit my lips hard enough to draw blood
And we only go out to places where we can be caught
Where my corpse can be discovered the next day
While making love
While you tear me to pieces
My love life has been skillfully strung into a string of murder cases that I cannot solve
For that reason
I'm coming to see you again tonight.
Because as dangerous as you are
This is the only kind of relationship I can accept
Perhaps the most wicked crime here
Is me daring to call this Love.
YOU ARE READING
Blooming in the Sand
PoetryRoses are beautiful by default. So Rose buds are supposed to be full of enthusiasm and excitement for what's undoubtedly to come. Except, some aren't planted where they're supposed to be, and instead struggle desperately to manifest their beauty...
