her strong bones grow weary, her icy eyes conflict with her fiery. alcohol stained blood upon her lips, words left unsaid hang from her fingertips. I want her touch, her love; I want to be more than what she's thinking of. her coping mechanisms consist of smoke, lighters, and shotglasses. she is bittersweet her hair the color of molasses. her blood shot eyes will never look at mine. I'm not destructive enough to be worth her time. sun kissed skin when the lights are dim, my love for her is an unforgivable sin. she is cold and my patience is wearing thin. she is the fire that burns from me from with in.
I'll never forget those foggy eyes and that short temper
her words sting me like a flames ember
her pain, her misery, and people like me, would love to be the lighter that stops her suffering.
INK
By misterfrankiero
collection of poetry, thoughts, and parts of my soul. More