Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
You slid to me with ice on your heels, flame on your back, the wind in your face, and the stars in your eyes. It's a scritchy scratchy situation made from a wishy washy connotation. Shift, shaft, shake the muscles beneath my skin. You crick crack creeped to corner of my grin. Broken with a kiss, and sealed with a sigh. You remain my favorite little white lie. Confessing that I don't know why I will write about you until the day that I die. You pretended; I embroider the delusion with every hiccup of a heart's confusion. Remember, child, what you can't see? I won't stop, I still fancy that fantasy. I pushed you away, but you threw me out. I was your trash; you were everyone's treasure. Internally screaming with scarcely a shout, all in all, the torture was my pleasure. Backtrack back, to this and our state. A slip of strength but not a slip of the tongue, Because like destiny and the idea of fate, I stopped believing in you when I was young. So I stole your ice for my heart and flames for my belly, because it's windy in my head with your stars on my mind
0
Nov 5, 2015
Nov 5, 2015 at 1:44 AM UTC
Sidereal
You slid to me with ice on your heels, flame on your back, the wind in your face, and the stars in your eyes. It's a scritchy scratchy situation made from a wishy washy connotation. Shift, shaft, shake the muscles beneath my skin. You crick crack creeped to corner of my grin. Broken with a kiss, and sealed with a sigh. You remain my favorite little white lie. Confessing that I don't know why I will write about you until the day that I die. You pretended; I embroider the delusion with every hiccup of a heart's confusion. Remember, child, what you can't see? I won't stop, I still fancy that fantasy. I pushed you away, but you threw me out. I was your trash; you were everyone's treasure. Internally screaming with scarcely a shout, all in all, the torture was my pleasure. Backtrack back, to this and our state. A slip of strength but not a slip of the tongue, Because like destiny and the idea of fate, I stopped believing in you when I was young. So I stole your ice for my heart and flames for my belly, because it's windy in my head with your stars on my mind
shannen-bremner
Written by
Nov 5, 2015
Nov 5, 2015 at 1:44 AM UTC
Request permission to use this poem