I hope you know,
You blazed me up.
But you did not fuel up.
You may have thought I raged.
But darling,
Your nurturing coals is leaving weak embers in no time.
So I burned in parts instead.
Whenever the right wind blows me,
There's still a part to set fire.
In little pieces I chose to get burned.
I hope you know I survived this way.
Losing is better like this.
It doesn't hurt that much this way.
It doesn't scar deep that way.
It weakens my knees but I'm alright anyway.
🔥
HeraoftheUniverse
YOU ARE READING
When She Stirs
PoetryThere will be a time where you choose to cease so you could commence a higher birth of existence. This one's for those who have felt a dying persona due to conflicts of the spirit, a troubled heart and a mind of chaos. Afflictions exist to mold a be...
