A beat of
his heart sings the truth,
Even I, The
Peasant Princess understand,
This steady
rhythm filling the air like rain,
I am this
muffled truth,
Beating
purpose into his veins,
His pained
stare into your soul?
That is me
looking out his pale blue eyes,
You can hate
me for the pain I cause,
Or celebrate
me for the lesson I teach.
Walking the
bitter corridors,
That sobbing
you hear is me,
Raising my
dangerous head within your chest,
I fill
memories into your lost mind,
Like pennies
into a mason jar,
I force my
way into your expression,
Reflecting
myself off the mirror and into your dark eyes,
Your feet
cannot carry you away from me,
I am the
ripping weakness under your false armor,
The wound
between your ribs that just won’t heal,
Alas, do not
despair,
My venom in
your blood is not permanent,
One day soon
you’ll find your saving tormentor,
He’ll suck
me out of your veins,
And heal
that which you cannot remember how to fix,
Yes my naive
poet, I shall not terry long,
Time had an
unpredictable way of dispatching me,
For I, young
soul, am only the demon known as Heartbreak
No comments:
Post a Comment