There's two kinds of death.
A sweet death,
an end that embraces your soft soul
As your breath slowly falters.
It's when your heart stops beating.
And
An evil, wicked death.
An end that is everlasting,
Still living but not entirely there.
As his soft kisses marks you,
Thick blood sticking to the bed sheets.
It's when your heart starts breaking.
YOU ARE READING
Shattered glass
Poésie［Highest ranking: #15］"Perhaps 'it wasn't meant to be' was our meant to be" he says as he chugs down yet another drink. She looks at him and rolls her eyes, "I wonder when your organs will give up on you too".
