the blood falls down from my fingertips, only to make a crimson colored mess upon the floor.
as i stand there with my heart in my hand and a hole in my chest a million thoughts come rushing through.
the pain is too much to bare any longer, but the feeling of euphoria that he gives me is more addicting than the nicotine in my lungs.
the heartache i have or another ones emotions hurts more than any blade could.
but as long as euphoria is more than the pain and melancholy, a simple bandaid will get me through.
YOU ARE READING
poems,, by me
PoesíaFor those of you that don't know, I am a poet. I don't write poems that rhyme or write the type you would find in a childrens book. I write poems based off of real events and feelings, hope you enjoy. small reminder: some of these aren't exactly poe...
