His words were weapons. I always thought they made me stronger and brave when they really brought me down and weakened me. I'd breathe in his I love you's but choke on the aftertaste of a lie.
His hands were rose bushes. From far away all I saw were intriguing white flowers, pure and innocent like a first love. When I intertwined my fingers in the soft pedals, I would get stabbed by multiple little thorns. Deep red would drip from my fingertips, tainting the white roses with an unnatural crimson.
His eyes were the deepest ocean. One look in those endless pools of blue and I had already forgotten how to tread. Looking in his eyes was as stupefying as jumping off a sinking boat when I knew I couldn't swim and hoping I'd still live.
His arms were a cage. Instead of being held, I was locked away. Embraces were forced and uncomfortable. Hugs were as enjoyable as screaming at a brick wall and knowing no one on the other side can hear me. The thought of being trapped drove me insane.
His hair was like a jungle. Running my hands through them repeatedly would get me strayed from reality and lost in a wonderland. The feeling was an addiction I couldn't stop. And he was the pharmacist that continually fulfilled my prescription to an overdose.
His scent was a tsunami. I'd inhale and be drowning in waves of peppermint. When I'd inhale too much, it was like swallowing the ocean.
Loving him was a light switch. When he acted like he cared, the light bulb could light up the universe. When he showed that he didn't care, I felt isolated and scared in the dark. Loving him was a tragedy, and I couldn't get enough.
YOU ARE READING
Poems
Poetry"I know that sometimes for people, I feel like too much; But let me kiss away the phantom pain that the scars remind you of, Let me kiss the burns on your hands, From when you touched the burning fire within my soul. Let me show you that yes, I am...
