They saw you singing,
at the Opera.
Unfurling linen;
peeling thy throat off
At each note.
throwing thyself,
to the waiting crowd.
clothes draped in,
blood so blue.
Sang all of me, so long, so forth,
And now your gaze, moonlit;
Wants;
A paltry few, drops of mine.
To thy, I pour,
Oh, look at burnt fate
the glass overflows; all of it.
Only to flow,
trickling past thy lips
leaving them dry.
Once more to the abyss of despair
to be a part of myself.
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Mirror Of Me | Poetry ✔
Poetry[a poetry collection] a dance to the fleeting emotions, notes to the music of life, a story of everything felt and told yet still, so many stories; so very untold. Of nights spent in solace of people so much more. Rankings: 🥇#poetry...
