I was palm reading this evening. I've never really done it before, but I've always liked the idea of knowing ones future. Maybe we wouldn't get so hurt then when things happen unexpectedly. It would be more of a pleasant surprise or a 'I told you so' event than a heart wrenching or pulse threatening thing. I looked at someone's hand, and I won't be mentioning who, but believe me there'll be a chapter for them. Don't you worry. I was looking at their hand, holding it in mind, tracing my forefinger over their life, health, heart and sun lines, trying to decipher their future, trying to figure out what the stars and the astrological gods had laid out for them. But just like any other hand, they were missing lines. Lines that could've answered the questions that rolled about hopelessly on my tongue. Their lines were jagged, some forked and others blurred with tiny criss-crossed patterns. I couldn't help my eyes from looking at the pulsing blue veins that lay silently beneath their thin skin, as if they were serpents waiting to pounce on me at any moment. They say, you know, that blood and love run through veins. Maybe that's what lumping through my veins at the moment, the love I have for you. Oh gosh, why do you always have to creep your way into my darkest vents. I don't want you here, but you keep coming back no matter how many times I try to push you away. You're crawling through my veins, sleeping into my flesh, but it's a pity.
Cause you're poison.
YOU ARE READING
It's Just a Poetry Book
PoetryA book I update as much as I can with poems written by me. Often written during boring classes or at half past eleven at night when everyone is sleeping and the only thing awake are my thoughts bouncing from wall to wall. Please comment any critici...
