Heroin veins stained
By dirt, she lies
Beneath the tree of
True love, where she
Met Romeo, the boy she
Called her 'one', whiskey
Lips and hazy dreams
There are glittering stars
In her eyes, dripping purple
Lips, drowning down little
Fantasies in red cups, long
Forgotten are the happy
Moments she lived for, her heart
Is empty and nails neatly polished in
Black, like a funeral marcher, she's
Broken because Cupid's an awful archer.
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Copyright 2016 @smokeupthe-moon.
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Creativity *Poetry*
PoesíaAll Rights Reserved Copyright 2016 @smokeupthe-moon. I wish I knew what to say, Have a mind full of words Yet to be spoken, to be written, Colored in every shade of the rainbow, Cover emotions with how the human eye can see, This is...
