~ • ~
There he were yet again.
Uttering sweet words
From his biter tongue as he caressed
His fingers on her cheek.
Fingers which have touched too many of faces.
She let him be.
Let him touch her.
Though she weren't scared to walk away
She was only afraid he would not follow.
She was a broken doll
Who needed a glue
Instead
She found a scissor.
She found him.
~ • ~
YOU ARE READING
Portraits of her heart
PoetryTo all poet enthusiasts, well this is for you. This lovely book is a third person narrative, and yes it's full of poetry whereby you find romance, somber, melancholy, hurt, ecstasy, love, affection, fondness, remorse and a whole lot more. So please...
