Secret Garden
Oh, but these are mere blue butterflies
That escaped my stomach twisting
Wishing for sweet nectar tantalised
In your smiling lips, on your garden
.
But instead they had landed on your thorns
Dear, I wish you saw how they simply wept
Fluttering weakly back inside my grey heart
Tattered wings, permanent scars they kept
.
Oh, but this is just another wounded soul
With wilting red roses scattered in her core
And dead butterflies lay on the bleak grass
And the angry bees keep stinging my heart.
YOU ARE READING
La Douleur Exquise | ×
Şiir♠♠♠ La Douleur Exquise. French term, meaning: the exquisite pain of loving someone unattainable. ♠♠♠ Just one more hit and then we're through 'Cause you could never love me back Cut every tie I have to you 'Cause your love's a fucking drag... ♠♠♠
