Fingertips stained red, Lips so glossed but dead.
Everything is for you, my love.
I can't keep my head above, drowning myself for you.
Chipping away at my own core I turn so blue.
Did you forget who I am? I sure did.
YOU ARE READING
Blasphemy
PoetryAnd you, my lover, or should I say my forgotten. My nuisance, my migraine, my nightly night terrors. You haunt me in my sleep, in my dreams, and even in my mind you haunt. I must purge you, and purify myself as you have rotten me to my very core. I...
