Oh, I love you, honey, your sweet nectar voice. The way you ensnare me with empty words, and interweave me, with warm suffocation. You are venomous, and I am dying, but why does it feel so much like paradise? — Y.H.
Moribund, gentle fervor.
you are you, and I adore you, even if this is a delusion.
Venomous words burn my skin, Crawling into my mind, seeping into my soul and heart, My desires and hopes no longer seem meaniful. I’m tearing up but I am wearing a mask; Never allowing others to see them fall down my pale skin, I refuse to be seen as “weak”.
These names have made their way into my memories, Never allowing any silence to be heard.
These silence screams will never be heard in the dead of night, As a crawl in my own skin and beg to be someone else.
Fear has a grip on me, Those nightmarish words that people speak have made a nest inside of my hollow body, Feasting away at my innocence’s and emotions.