it drips and stings like acid on skin.
it falls and streams like tears from eyes.
it tastes and looks like was death may feel.
the monster drinks gallons of the blood I feed, but it begs for more so quietly to start; gradually, it screams if it doesn't get what it wants.
naturally, I appease the voice of a monster in my mind.
but when I scream, the appeasement doesn't apply to such, only if blood drips down from my mouth.
if I stare into your eyes, pleading quietly because the monster is holding my mouth shut, will you notice?
or will it be when I finally write about those scissors I found in meadow of dying flowers that haven't been cherished?
exchange your emotions to the attention of actions with blood involved, but to the ones that show my eyes off in the darkness.
to the ones that show my toes pointing in and my fingers grazing each other.
to the ones that show a low, quiet voice trying so hard to answer, but fails.
to the ones that show a shudder under a hellish yell that was given.
annoyance is all you feel, that is certain.
but when I write about blood, that's when you'll care.
when there's blood as my ink and there's skin as my paper.
I'll write to you, just so I can finally feel as cherished at those flowers once did years ago.
YOU ARE READING
infinity kiss
Poesiean angel kisses me the way I kiss the devil.. and you are both ♡♡♡♡ I didn't want any of it to stop. I wanted to breathe you in entirely... ♡♡♡♡ another poetry book where it is not in theme and contains love stuff and maybe random stuff and it's kin...
