It's a stretched out journey back
to yourself.
Full of dead roses and thorns,
When you lose yourself loving them.
Enchanted by red roses,
Intoxicated by floral scents
Were the hidden thorns.
Never discerned.
Which perished, leaving me to bleed on a paper.
With my mind caged,
In the same floral scents.
With visible traces
of the very thorns
Missed last time.
Shan't be missed again.
<anaya>
YOU ARE READING
When Death, meets Love.
شِعرA tapestry of poems, One may find very relatable. Do give it a read. The cover page has picture of 2 characters, from a series in which the former character stands for death, cruelty , manipulation , paranoia, fear of abandonment. In contrast to th...
