In my scars,
I see the art-
Knowing that you were the artist:
And upon my blood, scattered on the floor-
I see your threat,
Knowing that you were the one who drew it out.
Oh lord! Isn't this so depressing,
That these nocturnal waves
have been devoring my deeds.
As my love was prodigious-
but yours was not:
As you cut through my throat with your words so sore.
Are you gonna make me fullfill all of your needs
and then make me bleed in my rancid dreams?
Aquarelle with my blood
on your foot so marvellously,
your footstepswerethe archives,
of my bloody dreams.
And in my scars,
I see the art-
Knowing that you were the artist,
and upon my blood scattered on the floor-
I see your threat,
Knowing that you were the one who drew it out.
YOU ARE READING
Ocean of words
PoetryThese are the ocean of words, I can't talk them out or hide, I wanna shout them to the world, But my courage is long gone in the tides...