allure

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and now my lungs have been cleansed 
their blackness hath washed away
all by the kindness of the harsh sun 
and whilst his words are twisted 
wrung and strung out to shrivel up
a tinge of hope bursts into a beautiful blue flame 

for I want to believe in the handsome sun 
but the moon haunts me with the past 

and she refuses to let me go 

she holds a veil of darkness over my eyes 
the only light: hers 
for she wish me not to do this again 

but the sun

he is so enticing 
and I - 
I am weak 
for even his gaze is too much for me to handle 
and I do indeed crumble beneath the suns warmth

breathe {poetry}--Where stories live. Discover now