I'm a mess,
A catastrophe:
A little cracked maybe?
Gazing through my lost:
Abode.
While my cancer;
Gives me the warmth!
Which from no person-
I ever felt.
I hear the phone ringing'
It was supposed to be you:
But no!!
It was Melancholy.
My old mate!
I wait for luminescene,
To bestow upon-
My deranged self,
Obsessed with the lust:
Of dead roses,
And solitude.
Have I never deleted'
My fervour;
Scintillating through,
My past.
My dear Melancholy❤
~Krishna~
YOU ARE READING
Truly Beautiful
PoetryI can't see past you, But i'm too scared to make a move! A short book of poetries that you can relate to ig? By- Krishtastic (Krishna) (#1 on newera) (#1 on spilled thoughts)
