"He took my wings,
He let me die.
I was his.
He didn't mind.
When I healed,
I stole my wings.
I took the knife,
kissed his cheek,
He didn't cry,
I Didn't forgive,
I just smiled."
YOU ARE READING
Poetry for the heartless and heartbroken
PoetryMy poetry dwells in the infinite sadness of the broken and the heartless.
Poem 43
"He took my wings,
He let me die.
I was his.
He didn't mind.
When I healed,
I stole my wings.
I took the knife,
kissed his cheek,
He didn't cry,
I Didn't forgive,
I just smiled."
