Baby girl I'm sorry,
I once was able to fathom a diagnosis that was not solely
Me and you.
But,
You were my aphrodisiac.
I can't fucking function,
This new normal isn't what I want.
I want to be your pawn.
You move me, you break me, you make those rules.
Because I know that's what I'm good at,
Being a tool.
For love is for the blind and hope for the wicked,
I saw you and I thought I knew what the word 'truth' meant.
My heart I kept kindled and brittle and torn.
And I placed it on a hanger,
For it was once worn.
And handled by hands forged with scars.
Hands that saw pain but when ran across flesh left a mess of breathtaking stars.
Dear, I sit here and ask what the hell have I done?
We were young, we were ignorant
And I held the gun.
It takes two and some time and maybe now I see,
That the beauty that I searched for in this dismal hell was able to be found in your two deep
Yet icy blue pools.
I'll remember them well,
For I swam them often.
Their depths brandished,
in my heart.
A figure,
what a trace,
Of lost, priceless art.
YOU ARE READING
Words
PoetrySome free time poetic shit, social and political perspective and other various poetic rant topics . Updates are very inconsistent but if I get a growing positive response from my works it might inspire me to write more? Who knows . Do comment if you...
