Dear Reader,
My chest is woobly freaked that, it can't stand.
Sweating, is my mind and hand.
There's a rise in my sad blood's pressure.
Cause in my heart, your words are transfering aesthetic pleasure.
Your words wear rare beauty,
like a flight attendant on a serve duty.
I say! You're sadistic.
Cause your words are irresistibly aesthetic.
You know youv'e been stabbing me,
with these sharp glittering words of yours these days.
And I'm enjoying the pleasure pain sensation it's giving my heart really bad; yes! said by me.
You can tell by the red smile scars shown on my face.
I can't stand to reread not without a seat,
but you knock me off my feet,
just in the name of your words beauty.
Just in the name of your words beauty,
I die in bliss.
Signed with love to 80's.
Your friend,
5fy.
YOU ARE READING
Skeletal Words Of A Dead Heart
PoetryA needed love to quench the thirsty feeling of a sore soul for 22,000 years.The heart is pale and dead yet the gene it possesses, is still longing for a love like oxygen; the gin to awaken this heart from death's dungeon and put it back to its li...
