MESS » poetry.

fourteen

i've always told you that

i wanted to kiss death

and know all its secrets

so nobody would ever hurt me again.

oh but my dear,

i didn't want you to become a brand new city;

i was being a dreamer,

i'm never realistic.

i didn't want you to

burn your wrists,

drink galaxies,

and sleep with needy skeletons.

i know i was being selfish,

i was consumed by

my own thoughts and wishes.

now you've became nothing

but

a

sad

kiss.