My roses are now dead
Soaked in pain
Uprooted with brutality.
Let the show begin.
You gave me the incapacity to feel
You purloined my drink,
Last night at the bar
It was supposed to bring me back.
You grabbed me
And filled my mind
With painful love
Stop.
YOU ARE READING
mortem
PoetryIf it wouldn't be enough I'd feel pages with my tears, burn desires with my flames and tear all apart with no regrets.
