I've been hurt before. Some times by people, many times by myself. But it never really scarred me.
I've cried before. Some times to people's words, many times to my own thoughts. But it never really twisted me.
But your voice. Oh God that voice! It tore my soul!
I've watched sad films before. Cried and hated the depressive twist at the end. But it never really bereaved me enough.
I've listened to so many sad song before. Contemplated about life and cried while singing them. But it never really wounded me enough.
But your voice. Oh God that voice! It tore my soul!
I've been demeaned before. With words of sharp teeth that bit me in my heart. But it never really scratched me.
I've been insulted before. With vocables of honed sword that pierced through my veins. But it never really made me bleed.
But your voice. Oh God that voice! It tore my soul!
Darling, it scarred me.
But your weep. Oh dear that weep! It tore my soul!
My love, it twisted me.
But your tears. Oh no those tears! It tore my soul!
Baby, it bereaved me.
But your words. Oh God those self-sabotaging words. It tore my soul!
Sweetheart, it wounded me.
But your sighs. Oh dear your melancholy sighs. It tore my soul!
Honey, it scratched me.
But your voice. Oh God that cracking sound of heartbreak...
It made me bleed...
I'm sorry.
YOU ARE READING
Fairytale on the Screen
Thơ caCollection of poetry for the loml- Marc Nazarene Vicente