And it's black like the night,
Or the color of your eyes.
You're black everywhere,
Rubbing off on my hands.
My skin has been stained,
Your fingertips have it painted,
And my voice is now black,
Just like you hated.
YOU ARE READING
The Diary of a Fallen Girl
PoesiaThere is no relief. Only love, And death. *** This is dedicated to everyone who has broken my heart before. Thank you. *** {Highest Ranking: #315 in poetry} {Trigger Warning}
