At times
the sweetest words can come from a sour mouth.
Lips speaking for their own pleasure—
with no value or substance—
disguising themselves
Embodying innocence.
These lips dripping honey
Say only what you wish to hear
In hopes of gaining the best of you
And with each passing moment,
These lips,
Supposedly kissed with sugar
Somehow get sweeter.
And you think
How is that possible?
Why with every taste do we wish for more?
The curiosity commands you,
Although weary,
You continue to be
Immersed
In the sweet silver tongue and lips of nectar.
You sway gently
Entranced
As they sing their siren song
And you know
The deeper you fall and the more you listen
You begin to lose yourself
Completely,
becoming unrecognizable.
For you didn't know that with every song
And every small taste,
Those lips,
powdered with pretend passion
We're draining you of your own sweetness,
And finally
After taking every last drop.
Those sour,
Snake skinned lips
Kiss you goodbye.
For you have filled their cup by emptying yours.
YOU ARE READING
Heart of Moss
PoetryThis is a book of my everyday life and what I feel. This is my life and I would love for you to live through it with me. It's from rants, to poetry, to just plain writing. It's bout whatever sucks ass or whatever is unbelievably awesome and whatever...
