Like a cold winters day,
I can see my breath.
I can also see you my dear,
Yet my heart doesn't change any
temperature.
Why must you do this?
It's not impressive,
But alas I don't question you.
Your smile, and somewhat filthy lust
within your eyes.
Distracts me all to well.
The snow, an aesthetic of mine, much like the woods.
What do you want me to be like you?
Who will ever know, as I taste your lips.
YOU ARE READING
Roses, Riddles, and Poetry
PoesíaWhatever I'm feeling, I sometimes talk in the language of Riddles. To only I understand, what the meaning is behind each sentence. Will just update this whenever, only making this to express myself.
