I wonder if like a storm you are
unaware of the damage you inflict.
Flooding these walls with screams,
shattering the fragility of our home.

I assume you are too caught up
within your own struggles to break free.
The wrath of your thoughts and those
calculating fingers rake your flesh.

Etching violent artistry's to your soulless
voids. Little needles which pin-***** at
the dark corners of your mind; awakening
the dormant cruelty sheltered within.

It is only through the cusp of night that
apologies emerge as you feign delicacy.
Your liquid skies fade to hellish hues as
you tell me not to lust after hurricanes.

honestly i tried making this into a poem,
i really did

i'm running out of artistic ways to tell the world,
that i loved you

cause i keep writing poems about
the touch i've forgotten
the voice that's gone distant
the eyes that lost color

and i can't keep doing this to myself,
this is my last time saying it..
i love you...
i did.