Though it seems,
My soul has been,
Stained with the blackest of sins,
You see the light within my dead eyes.
You held my hand,
Which held the knife,
Of which I was to take your life.
You smiled at me so tenderly,
My dead heart starts beating again.
This was to be an assassination.
Yet I stand,
Lost in these mesmerizing green orbs,
Like the emerald stone,
That hung around my neck.
Before I knew,
Your lips touch mine,
So warm, so gentle,
Before I knew,
I was in love,
With the target I was to kill.
YOU ARE READING
Epigrams
PoetryIt appears you've found my book and before you decide to read it's contents, know that... These poems are everything that is me. (Also the cover was made by my buddy FierroThorne!)
