Love isn't alive,
It's dead and moldy and smells like
hate and decay.
Love is dead, and it's skin is dotted
With purple bruises and
Broken promises that
Cut too deep and
Words that couldn't patch love up.
Love is dead.
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Painful Truths
PoetryLife asked Death, "Why do people love me but hate you?" and Death replied, "Because you are a beautiful lie and I am a painful truth." (completed) Well. Poems, if you could call them that. Just rambled and rushed night time thoughts. Some of these a...
