You were a wolf in sheep’s clothing wiping the blood off your mouth, your last victim left limping asking for dear life.
You were an angel that smelled of danger, the type of being that will hurt you with a smile.
You were a heartbreak waiting to happen and like a moth to a flame, I willingly let myself burn just to feel an ounce of love.
You don’t just destroy, you decimate. Even bones won’t remain when you’re through. This didn’t scare me for you promised warmth and joy.
You were the pain I’m willing to endure— a wound that I’ll let bleed out until I’m wilted and drained.
You murdered me and I’m a willing accomplice to the murder of myself.
YOU ARE READING
Moon Child | Ongoing
Poetry"Home isn't always four walls. Sometimes it's one warm embrace And two people's heartbeats as one. " - Moon Child (StarHues) Collection of poems mostly tackling about falling in love with someone out of your reach. Musings about the pain of unrequit...
