This is love,
I say,
as her strawberry lips graze my neck.
Pulse.
Pulse.
Pulse.
I don't realize that she can sink her teeth into my flesh and leave me bleeding,
I don't realize that she will.
See,
I have found that pretty things have the tendency to be painful.
This is the truth,
I say,
as he whispers every lie he has ever told into my ear.
I love you.
I love you.
I love you.
I don't realize that he can use my naivety against me,
I don't realize that he will.
See,
I have found that the most believable liars often tell the best stories.
This is happiness,
I say,
as I sit alone.
Breaking.
Breaking.
Breaking.
I don't realize that I can be carelessly self destructive,
I don't realize that I will.
See,
I have found that isolation makes for horrid motivation.
YOU ARE READING
The Boy That Never Forgot Their Name
PoetryStep into the life of a mystery in this poetry collection exploring romance, death,pain, and creatures out of this realm. Forget what you have learned of heartbreak and ghosts because when you walk into the forest I promise that you will know the tr...
