You are poetry on paper,
An ironic twist of fate.
I am at your mercy,
The gods intertwine our veins.
My heart is haunted by demons,
demons born from your devices.
We both ignored slaughters and riots,
in favour of gazing into each other's craze and diamonds.
The world could stop its rotation,
and the sun could become supernova.
But I wouldn't be able to tear myself from where I'm buried in your arms,
lost in affectionate composure.
I hang myself from your corrupt devotion,
an addictive sedative in constant commotion.
Your are hard to consume hard to condemn,
all it takes is your lavish attention,
and I'm cannibalised in absolute deception.
I am surrounded by your symphony's,
quelled by your orchestra.
I am swept away with your honeysuckle flowers,
I am a leaf drowning in the drain.
So I shall wait when you've grown bored,
and I shall despair when you've no fond memories.
But please keep in safe in your chest of past obscurities,
nothing more than just an faint memory,
a shadow of what we had become.
YOU ARE READING
Coherence
PoetryThis is a poetry collection that is both ever updating and ever changing. This collection of poetry isn't exactly traditional or ever a solid complete piece of prose, I am ever adding and changing and morphing them into something I feel is better or...
