The poem as prey, as blood luscious, elusive. The poem as the locked room.
37 posts
Thorn To My Rose
Thorn to my rose
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In a room full of strangers, our eyes met in secrecy.
With that striking smile of yours, you simply just ended me.
Gently whispered words killed me more than any poison could.
Loved you way too fondly than any lover ever should.
In frightened voice and shaky hands, I was scared to lose you.
In granted lives and afterlife, I was never meant to have you.
What is life anymore, if not just the absence of you?
Had to watch you bleed to death, what is even left to lose?
Once again in life I am terrified to let you close.
You were my known ruin. A lethal thorn, my gentle rose.
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More Posts from Unlikelyanonymous
I want to kill myself just enough for you to visit. Atleast then I'll get to see you somewhere that's not just my dreams.
What can life offer anyway
That I can't have with you in death?
What feels more like home anyway
Than it does besides your grave?
Him
He was butterflies.
He was anxiety.
He was silent cries.
He was that feeling of empty.
He was reliance.
He was trouble.
He was treacherous.
He was loyal.
He was steady.
He was unstable.
He was needy.
He was unpredictable.
He was my almost lover.
He was a goddamn nightmare.
He was a million little emotions.
Mixed into a disconsolate one.
Losing a friend
Ask me where it hurts
Everywhere I'll say
Ask me if I miss you
Everyday I'll say
The grave that I call my home
Where love doesn't exist.
The monster that I call my father
For whom peace doesn't exist.
The demon that I call my mother
For whom compassion doesn't exist.
The nightmare that I call my world
For which I dont exist.
The despair that I call myself
For whom joy doesnt exist.
The curse that I call my life
Where living doesn't exist.