You are the promise of love,
the torch to my darkness.
Your words feel like a feverish touch,
your skin gives me comfort.
I am Icarus and you are the sun,
you are a candle I am willing to touch.
It happened quiet. But I was screaming.
I painted the bed red
as you leave me hanging and dead.
It happened quiet but
my innocence is screaming out for help.
A gentle earthquake,
a rupture on my skin.
Every river turns red,
as I bleed on the concrete.
You were the promise of love,
a double-faced demon.
Charred wings, chained limbs;
my never-ending nightmare.
Violently delicate, I can't stay here.
I ran off with a knife and a prayer.
YOU ARE READING
Moon Child | Ongoing
Poetry"Home isn't always four walls. Sometimes it's one warm embrace And two people's heartbeats as one. " - Moon Child (StarHues) Collection of poems mostly tackling about falling in love with someone out of your reach. Musings about the pain of unrequit...
