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Poetry

If it wouldn't be enough I'd feel pages with my tears, burn desires with my flames and tear all apart with no regrets.

10

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by heleury

by heleury

Babe, don't play with the devil,

Grab him by its horns

and subjugate its love.

I heard a voice
Last night
In the right corner
Of the room.

It wasn't mine
As I was trapped
In the basement
Of your mind.

It was whispering
Terrible things
That I, with my bare hands
Couldn't stop.
That I, with my so-not-enough love
Couldn't handle.

It was whispering
Your death.

And as the time was running
That voice
Was torturing me,
By telling me
How' d you end your life,
How I wouldn't be able to stop it.