Ive been asked what love is like for me.
Love could be the star shaped bruises on my knee,
For i love them dearly,
Love could be the contrast of the colour of blood and my skin against each other,
For how i crave it so,
Love could be my lovers lips that have kissed another while belonging to me,
Love could be the emptiness in my best friends eyes when she agrees my empty optimism,
Love could be how my glasses broke after being slapped by the man in my life,
Love could be the chemistry between me and the idea of death,
But it isn't, instead,
Love is the excitement i felt while being reckless resulting in a colorful bruise,
Love is the warmth of comfort when I'm bleeding and reach out for help,
Love is my lover hating the memory that brings me pain,
Love is my best friend trying despite little help,
Love is him hugging me and tending to me after,
Love is in the way i refuse to let my lungs give up.
YOU ARE READING
My Boring Escapades.
Poetry"Breaking free from the thoughts of others." Not alot makes sense in this book. Its not supposed too. They most definitely might be terrible, its just my way of keeping track of things I write no matter how terrible. These are unedited, theyre only...
