the anorexic tips of his fingers ache to liberate themselves from the prison between hers- the flow of repressed emotions upon his discolored tongue. and as her heart continued to shatter in a chaotical cycle refusing to remain as mere shards reflecting twelve shades of lilac blending her soul into the void lingering amongst the oleanders he had bloomed with kisses of whiskey and bromeliads- the oozing blood rise in his throat.
but when the serenity of the night ends and the hustle and bustle of the streets canoodle the pinks and oranges- when the ankle of a dancing ballerina snaps in half and when a lover's heart is broken once again- fragments of the screams to the heavens reminded him of his sweet little lover- she drained him dry.
she was dahlia sunsets and torn monsters- arrogant gods and forsaken angels- his confessed consonants crushed between her diamond-cut teeth and snapped wishbones. lily moonlights and fishnet lingeries but himalayan salt and blood pendants- she was scraps of poetry and madness, he was a fathomless tragedy; weave their fingers together and whisper- after your own heart.
YOU ARE READING
guava achings ✓
Poetrybanquets of succulent peaches in tin cans and pretty boys with passionflowers blossoming from their cuticles.
