It was night.
I felt the fire
in my bones
freeze to numbness.
This was my
own life,
my own choices.
With her I was free.
The dirty angel.
Pale fingers
turning my hopeless
heart to a black void.
My only thought
And another one.
Night was
another world.
The hell of day
dissipated. Long
forgotten like a
middle school crush.
Nothing but the
chilling release.
A burning peace
that she brings.
How could this demon
be so sweet and pure?
A toxic candle
in the dark of my life.
YOU ARE READING
The Bleeding Pen of a Writer
PoetrySome old , some new, some dying to be true. A collection of my poetry
