Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Feb 19

I let the stars to fall on his arms
To give his eyes a very gentle kiss.
I looked at him and thought:
I would fight for him a hundred storms.
And everything that he has, I will miss.
His touch on my skin's like from another dream.
I don't care if this moon is jealous of us.
All I can think of: is he even real?
And wonder how every my minus turns to his plus.
I won't call it love, perhaps it's too loud,
To scream about the thing that is much sacred to yell for.
But when all of them shout we're those who're misproud.
They're just afraid of the truth, nothing less, nothing more.
Imagine, he's the one who can appease my hellfire.
And speak to my soul, when others think there is none.
Among all the kings, it's him who can simply inspire,
To give them pure love or fire them up with the gun.
Wouldn't be a mystery how he can be best at my worst,
How all the evil bows on its knees, when he gives them a look
To those mortals who bet either we're blessed or we're cursed,
And my pain is given by them, away he just took.
Written by
Yaryna  22/F
Please log in to view and add comments on poems