It's like picking at a scab
you know you shouldn't
or it won't heal.
Yet the urge is just too strong
so you do it anyway
just to feel.
Every time I go back to you
the wound is opened up.
I leave myself exposed
by removing the protective crust.
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In The Name Of Love
Poesia"Come inside this heart of mine, feel the beat to the poets rhyme, words they tumble, spilling pain, tales of woe or love, again." Poems about love, good and bad, real and imagined, sometimes beautiful, sometimes dark but always, always, from the...
