That boy stole me away into the canary sun
with the persuasion of flashbulb eyes
passion orbitting him on a vast axis
He knew long before I that I could never be his lover
He reveled in the shadows that feasted on the place he left
My corrupted lungs a violent storm in his emptiness
I was only ever meant to fill the spheres between his sheets
to drench the fires in his loins with the floods of my eyes
dripping to mingle with the honeyed sentiments on my tongue
I was there to delight the idle breaches between his calloused fingers,
Naive hands and a credulous mind predisposed to believing in him
Despite the fear of the wolf in his heart tearing me apart
He always had another standing by with wild intent
Her swollen-hearted ardor prickled her skin at the sight of him
But she was only the charred afterthought sent as the precedent
Lingering for his leisurely recovery, he set me on fire for amusement
Caressing the brittle bones of my foundered skeleton, I felt worthy
until his next unannounced departure; I was the unlucky one
The recurring vision of a relentless clarity in its yearning for him
faltering in realizing that I'm his silhouette; a thing to soon forget
The wolf in his heart, as wild as fire, was forever killing me
YOU ARE READING
Noisy World (ᴘᴏᴇᴛʀʏ)
PoetryI've never claimed to be a poet; I've only ever claimed that I'd try.
