"Let it cut your heart,
Let it lit the stars
with its horns,
Made of thorns
let it kill you,
let it grow.
Let this love do its killing,
let this love take it all."
YOU ARE READING
Poetry for the heartless and heartbroken
PoetryMy poetry dwells in the infinite sadness of the broken and the heartless.
Poem 89
"Let it cut your heart,
Let it lit the stars
with its horns,
Made of thorns
let it kill you,
let it grow.
Let this love do its killing,
let this love take it all."
