I want to draw him
But the canvas is not enough
I want to paint him in love
But the Red paint is not the:
Color of my Love
So,....
I draw him in my Heart
Painted him in my Warm Crimson Blood
With each Beat, etched in my Veins
Carved in my Heart, he smiled brightly
Every stroke, a silent Hope
A silent Promise A silent Plea
The portrait grow - wild and free
A masterpiece that never dies
YOU ARE READING
A Promise for Tomorrow
PoesíaShe Burned Herself to Show him the Love, For him it was Just a Light To see the path, She didn't realize it Until she Burned down to Ashes Let me know what you think about my writings in the comments... Let me know your opinions and pov
