Pounding blood
in my veins;
crimson flush
colours face,
taut shoulders,
hurting muscles;
breathing in a
laboured breath
where stifling air does express
the way it burns down my throat
gripping insides
with a last caress:
A final goodbye,
soundless
in screams of distress.
YOU ARE READING
When The Heart Whispers
PoezjaThe poems reflect evergreen and intense emotions while others are as light and weightless as feathers. It's like the heart whispers softly, waiting to be heard. ~Vote and Comment~ © tanxsha [Previously warped_realities]
