Your needy vines
entangle themselves,
coiling around my
blood red heart.
I do not fear,
for the drug that runs
through my veins
shall keep you near.
They pulse,
coursing their way,
through my system,
unleashing pent up fury.
I cannot stand,
I cannot fall,
I merely hang,
in sweet ineptitude.
My thoughts are not mine alone,
I feel your presence,
cutting off what
once I held dear.
I do not question,
I know the truth,
I am merely a tool,
of loves sweet disease.
YOU ARE READING
Heart extracts
PoetryCan you pin love down with ink and paper? Or on screen with pixels? No. But we must try Love is patient and kind. Love is not jealous. It does not brag, does not get puffed up, does not behave indecently, does not look for its own interests, does...
