you are the victim,
an unpublished poem,
and a forsaken investment.
you wait in the corner
bleeding from
a cut so deep,
than even he couldn't reach you.
that's is the problem.
he wouldn't.
because bleeding out
is not worth
the blood on his hands
from a woman who
screams way too much.
so you must hide,
and burn the wounds
from the power that
was welded within you
from the beginning.
and burn it all to the ground,
to find that one piece of
sanity
that masks the
insanity
you breathe.
YOU ARE READING
drops of champagne
Poetrydrops of champagne stains my skin, as memories of your lips burn with each passing sip as i float down to hell with you. DISCLAIMER: if you see any grammar mistakes, i do apologize but also let me know so that i am able to fix them as soon as pos...
