Your touch —
burns, hotter than the pits of hell;
scars, permanent as inked deep;
yet, I'm addicted.
Your skin —
glows, milky and soft;
is clean, gentle to the bones;
yet, you're nothing but a destroyer.
What are you?
A destroyer of nature,
in the name of lust,
lacking of love.
(d.r.)
YOU ARE READING
Black & Poisonous
Puisi"She had 50 days left to live. She had 5000 words left to say." A compilation of 50-word poems by a child who longed to see a better future than the one they've set for themselves. Each piece takes 12 seconds to read. #833 - 27/05/17 #687 - 28/05...
