love, would you stop wounding my heart
with your
savage knife?
love, would you please
amputate the lump
that has planted its poisonous roots in my throat as I try to say,
one
last
time
"Don't leave, please, love."
YOU ARE READING
wanderlust.
Poetry❝love, is the most exquisite form of self-destruction. ❞ all rights reserved. copyright © 2014 | -retrospect-
