Black blood flowing
Intricate lines woven
Deep into the veins
Staining the fibres
Of pages burned
Worn and torn
Time ageing the tainted pages
Of cursive art
Journals coated in leather
Pages torn and seeping
Words escaping into the air
For someone to hear
So the pages get burned
Ablaze so bright like the fire
Of passion that drew the black blood
Coating every last page
The ink ran out
Poured out into the fire
A flame of passion and desire
Of bleeding words in tan fibres
Squashed out with the last lick of fire
And a new poem gets written
With the ash on the wooden floor
YOU ARE READING
In These Pages
Poesie"Poetry is the spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings; it takes its origin from emotions recollected in tranquility." -William Wordsworth An amateur collection of my dark poetry, spoken word, and deep late-night thoughts. ***{ONG...
