wilks was pure.
scented with novocain that with
one
single
drop,
could kill me.
but his beaches were wilted,
carved, and broken in pieces
that i knew could never be fixed.
however, there was still gilks.
gilks was demonic.
scented with roses that
could possibly nurse me back
to the world i fall so far from.
his beaches were crystal clear, put together,
hardly been touched, or broken into.
he was pretty to look at.
something i, honey, could
drink from.
but wilks,
his heart was of stone.
and his leaves were always tainted
with security.
the way
his words dropped from his mouth,
as he sweetly talked to me.
lured me into what was to be,
or hopefully be
a match made in heaven.
but gilks,
oh gilks.
his hands when graze upon my skin,
knew every nook, and cranny
that wilks
could not find.
gilks knew how to make beautiful music,
out of
the sweet words
that left my lips
in a way that was lustful.
so i, honey
honey that drips,
falls,
crashes against the ground,
that is sweet.
i think for a solid millisecond.
gilks, was who my body called for,
no doubt.
there will always be a gilks.
and that did not matter to me.
because, wilks.
wilks was who my heart longed for.
forever and always.
until i may rest in peace.
-zmh
YOU ARE READING
the ruins of me
Poetryi love you; said me every time foolishly. if you see any grammer mistakes, please do not hesitate to contact me politely about them! also credit to whoever may have taken the picture of the flowers for my cover, I did edit it a bit but other than...
