It hurts
Like I was stabbed
By a knife
Instead of
words as cold as ice,
As sharp as a knife.
It hurts
Knowing it was you
Knowing it was your voice
Shouting at me
Knowing it was your hand
Holding my neck
And stabbing me.
It hurts
As I bleed,
Tears and fears,
Whose flow like rivers
From my dead, empty,
Eyes
And as I scream
And beg
And cry
To "leave me!
Please!
Do not hurt me! "
You just
Stare.
It hurts
Like my soul is slowly
Slipping away
From my body,
As you leave me
[Finally]
To drown in that hate,
That despair,
That slowing crawls on my cold body
On the purple marks
On the red lines
And it burns,
Like salt on wounds.
It hurts
Seeing you leave me
With no care
[You murder]
Like a corpse
You stabbed
With your own knifes.
YOU ARE READING
Drowned
PoetryFeelings that lie under the skin of a dead, living girl. [Or more easily, a series of poems that I write in dark moments] 31/01/2020: 12 on #morte [1.3k]
