It's like the night, kissed the light, when our scenes darkened in smoke. Its acerbic romance led to our demise. Destiny isn't a game or a theatrical presentation, yet we anticipate to change its course. I wish that I could try to change the play, but there's no assurance in Pompeii. There's no assurance in pain of your eyes, in the pain of the night or your lips touching mine. It's a psychotic process to think it's so easy, but then be so torn by the skin that burns apace. In the second itself, we were taken away tactically. Signs pointing to torture were silenced by the wicked violence of the peaks where the soil was sweet to the violets. Sweet to the herbs while we perished, in hindsight it's tragic. Lavenders grow where the spirits were stolen. You and I are spirits, pain is in control so subtly. It's you, it was your responsibility. You were supposed to see the sky turn black, supposed to warn our world. What you did was ignore all the signs to cause the ground to crack, I turned to point at you as we fell through, not taking a chance at a last touch, then I lost you in the ethers. You and I were born to separate in the toils of the world, we'd no control. Silly lies we told ourselves that living next to Vesuvius is okay, now turn to look at Pompeii.
© Sincerely, ♡ - April 2023
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My Guts Create A Tapestry - Poetry
PoetryThis poetry is strictly copyright, it's all written by me. These poems tend to be written sweetly so you could be reading the most gorey poem and it'd be like it's romantacised. I don't try to romantacise them, it's the way I write. You'll possibly...
