But promise me that the day you realise
The fiery spark in your heart isn't igniting,
Or the butterflies in your stomach cease to flutter,
You'll tell me you no longer love me,
That the love we once shared is obsolete.
Just promise you'll tell me
When I hear the sirens call out to me,
And I see the white ahead,
I'll be free of all the things I thought would be better left unsaid.
March 2022
YOU ARE READING
The Aspect Of Oblivion
PoetryThe planted seeds of my wretched thoughts and emotions have bloomed their way out onto these pages, birthing a catastrophic garden; a virtue of beauty. A collection of emotions and thoughts documented in words, encompassing a voyage through the laby...
