The tips of her lashes
were silver like rainfall,
and her hair was the sea at night,
her flesh was the clouds
obscuring the warmth of the sun,
and her teeth were the glinting knives.
No obsidian dark
could outshine her eyes,
and her words were a painful storm.
The more she breathed,
a new star awoke,
and in the darkness, I grew forlorn.
Jul 8, 2019
Jul 8, 2019 at 10:48 AM UTC
The tips of her lashes
were silver like rainfall,
and her hair was the sea at night,
her flesh was the clouds
obscuring the warmth of the sun,
and her teeth were the glinting knives.
No obsidian dark
could outshine her eyes,
and her words were a painful storm.
The more she breathed,
a new star awoke,
and in the darkness, I grew forlorn.
falling, falling, falling into the darkness of love.
Request permission to use this poem