Jul 2014
Love* is
kissing her tender lips
like they're made from the gods,
divine, palatable yet frigid and cold
Love is
ripping her chest apart
only to find a labyrinth that led to home
─but never the place to call your own
Love is
leaving a note on her coffee table
saying *I love you
but
I told you so
Love is
turning her into a beautiful poetry
without crushing her soul,
without tormenting her ego
kissing her tender lips
like they're made from the gods,
divine, palatable yet frigid and cold
Love is
ripping her chest apart
only to find a labyrinth that led to home
─but never the place to call your own
Love is
leaving a note on her coffee table
saying *I love you
but
I told you so
Love is
turning her into a beautiful poetry
without crushing her soul,
without tormenting her ego
