There is nothing left for this.
No more me.
Not any you.
My hands connected to loose wrists
Dangling for the sole purpose
of hoping to reach you.
Just the nothingness of a forgotten wave.
The burning darkness of over.
Thank you,
for instilling
My emanate demise.
I quite enjoy the kiss of the
night.
I love the word emanate. It means a feeling that is abstract, yet perceptible, and I just love the thought of something like that for some reason.
((this is also ripped off of the opening from a short story I wrote called "End" or the end or something))
YOU ARE READING
Acts of Rain ||a collection of poetry|| #Wattys2016
Poetry((Look at how dramatic past me kinda made this description)) //older poems are kinda shit// Same old empty feelings. So I've tried writing poetry now.. Mostly more on the sad side, but I am not you, the reader, and pain and beauty are viewed diff...
