She smiled.
I believed.
She talked a thousand languages
and breathed in fire.
She walked on knifes
and swallowed dynamite.
She spit bullets at me
and turned me around.
She smiled.
I believed.
She was perfection in a bottle.
A bird with
wings of sin.
So she pulled me
in a cave of hell
and it took me years
to climb out.
-The flower poet
YOU ARE READING
Words of a dying heart and a resurrecting soul
PuisiPoems I write when my lips are sealed shut.
