love is not
bruises upon my arms
cuts etched into my skin, mimicking art
that i no longer find pretty
tears leaking out of my eyes,
burning my skin as though it was acid
pain conflicted 'out of love'
or threats dripping from your lips like poison
love is not
someone as toxic as you
holding on to me so tightly
that i can no longer breathe
love is not
you killing me so slowly
while whispering sweet nothings
into my ear
to ease the pain that you are causing
YOU ARE READING
quarter to dawn {poetry}
Poetrya collection of poems. you ask me why i like art and i tell you that the water colours bleed prettier than my wrists
