the last time,
fire touched my lips,
was when I was a kid.
when my house burned down.
my mom and my dad, were taken,
to heaven or hell; i didn't knew.
but as a kid, i knew they weren't here.
anymore.
it wasn't raining that day,
but the sky was cloudy,
it wore a mask, of epiphany,
and vague truths that sleuth the air.
for the onset of life, i felt alone,
and over the years,
things healed and
life moved it's wheels.
it is raining today,
and when i ask myself,
why didn't it rain that day?
i let the smoke of my ciagerete,
billet the air, cutting down razors,
of humble dystopia, as sleep douses me.
and the memory lane closes it's portal.
i swing back into life again,
and stub the ciagerette out.
if only its rained,
like it was raining today.
☆☆☆ Next to be updated tomorrow.
Until then, hope you connect with the verse. Thanks for reading. ☆☆☆
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fangs of youth
Poesieteenage is where it all begins. love, lust, desires, trust, honesty, and every little thing considered unimportant for us before. because now, the fangs shall arise. it maybe good or bad, but it all depends on the reader, because the poems, will ta...
