She was something like
toxic
to my body
Because she harmed me severely
when the door shut
behind her,
forcing her early morning
scent
to my lungs.
Because i bit my nails disgustingly
until the rosy flesh peeking behind
caused me cruel friction
with any type of
touch.
Because i wouldn't cease
to ruffle my hair
whenever i had to approach
her,
until i went bald.
She was something like
poison
to my mind
Because as we occassionaly
locked eyes,
for a second there i would
believe
that i had seen something
flash in her eyes,
but she would just be delivering
all these fake clues
upon my sight.
She was something like
venom
to my heart
because her sheer
touch
would burn my blood
and it
killed me.
She'd be the
death of me
every
single
time.
YOU ARE READING
I named her Africa #Wattys2015
PoetryI didn't mind if my fingertips were rusted with coffee grounds, or if my palm still hosted bread crumbs, I reached out my hand across the table, and you squeezed it but proved me wrong. My mind was spiraling, my heart, unstable. ____________________...
