POETRY RANT - TILL LAST BREATH




I love the things that cannot be touched
It’s a hunger that deprives so much
I gnaw on the essence of my soul; and
The words bleed my limbs numb.

Just another poem, left out in the cold;
some say a gift of words
I say, the words haunt me
Its teeth are defined, to be one of a kind.

Every time I write about you, I die
Entrails of the heart scattered across these lines
Smeared in volumes calling to you
In the desperation that you will read just one.
Understand the yearning for you; but
Then you knew and I had no clue
You chose not to listen to a lover's cue; but
Rather have you stew.


Desperation and manipulation in mascara hues
Defining eyes, I fall under their spell
Just continue to bleed each poem
Till last breath, I fell.

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