The ghost of me was your haunting;
my voice echoed in your dreams.
At night when you were all alone,
I kept you from your sleep.
My touch lingered on your skin,
but it was cold,
and you could not feel.
The flesh of me pricked her finger,
on the yellow roses you left for me.
I let them grow in the chambers of your heart,
someplace no one could see.
The vines wrapped around your lungs,
they were beautiful,
but you could not breathe.
You were haunted by the ghost of I,
my poison running in your blood.
It was bittersweet and deadly,
just the remnants of my love.
I died but you were dead,
you knew this,
so rest now, my belove.
YOU ARE READING
A Plethora Of Poems
PoesíaOn my other account (acciolovee) I also have a book of poems, however, this is obviously my new one. These are some poems I have been planning to publish and maybe a couple old ones from my other book. Please read, vote, and most importantly, enjoy...
