Drowning in your eyes,
Burning with your smile,
How many hours spent with your silhouette burned across my lips.
This is not a love poem,
This is a poem for those hopeless enough to tie themselves to hearts they will never grasp.
Sinking ships, and anchors falling,
Holding onto you is getting rope burns,
Chainlinks bounding my wrists,
Why is it that once I get too close, I find myself backing away.
This is not a poem about love,
Because loving you was walking over hot coal,
Your love was a bed of nails,
Laid down so artfully that the feathers you slept on looked uncomfortable.
Your love was a calamitous forest fire that burned my every muscle.
Twisted words and heaved breaths,
This love made madness look easy.
This is not a love poem,
It is a poem about a love that shredded sanity.
This love wasn't what everyone said it would be,
It was lusting over a heart that didn't understand mercy.
Loving you was as easy as plunging a shaky hand into a pile of broken glass.
Just to wait, watching the crimson velvet dripping into your savage mouth.
Mouth filled with lies that intoxicate my mind,
Lies about a love you have no intention to keep.
Your compassion stifled by your burning need to push everyone away,
But still, I held on as if you were a missing piece of my heart.
Yet the only piece that was lost was the piece that loved you.