I'm going insane, dripping of your touch,
every morning when I sit on my bed,
I realise that it's drenched in your sins.
My mumma taught me that coffee
is the one and only but now,
everyday I always get caught in the time -
thinking about how your hands around
my wrists would feel rather than the
ropes which cut deeper than knives.
My demon hates the books on my shelf
and she called me a mirror who trusted men.
She wants to pay her debts off and
she is no sugar, and probably worse,
everyone's mom tells their kid about her tales,
how she'd rather die tied to your bed
than under eroded soil.
You've not only stripped my clothes but
my tears too, your moonlit room is a clinic.
When you had a drink with me in my
head, the bottles weighed me down.
I love saying, kiss me harder or touch me,
because my heart slams against my
ribcage when your eyes widen -
You've had food with me, in clumsy
restaurants, smiling even when you
hated the obnoxious taste.
You're like a sunset, wanting to go slow,
darker every passing second,
putting the coquettish Spanish to shame.
Destruction is what you call when
you're on top of me, not realising
how hungry your hands are -
But I guess,
I'd like to be destroyed.
~Sampurna
YOU ARE READING
Ink And Echoes
Poetry♚ ❛ Juliet, Tell me what is it like to vanquish - When you tossed the coin, And stepped on the battleground, With the accent of swords. Still you stand, Hands dripping of sin. In search of Romeo, You killed, And killed, And died. ❜ { Highest rank in...
