to love is to slit your wrists open and lay back and drown in your own blood.
saying,
here is me, bare and broken, will you dare to stop the bleeding?
YOU ARE READING
Poetry-The Unspoken Words
PoetryNothing ever ends poetically. It ends and we turn it into poetry. All that blood was never once beautiful. It was just red ~Kait Rokowski
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to love is to slit your wrists open and lay back and drown in your own blood.
saying,
here is me, bare and broken, will you dare to stop the bleeding?
