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Love?
Our love is black
Like fresh ink
Bleeding through
But even that shimmers
Our love is a hole
Made for throwing tears
And spilling blood
But even a hole is some place
Our love is war
Drenched in destruction
With the essense of pain
But even war has purpose
Our love is misery
Tinted razor blades
And empty bleach bottles
But even misery loves company
Our love is air
Invisible to the keened eye
Emptiness thats full
But even air exist
wow i really liked this
wow i really liked this piece... its quality suprised me and i mean that in the best way.... your poem i like an unkept treasure.... its really great..... its relatable, its beautiful, its well written, and its dark....my favorite kind of work x)
thank you. it means a lot.
thank you. what you said means a lot. you have quite the talent or "treasure" as well .