Weeds Disguised as Roses
Burning eyes scorch my soul,
whispering stories of worlds untold.
Your eyes burn into mine like fire,
I fall weak to your every desire.
I become a slave to his sire,
and slowly, slowly
creeping up spine,
I believe his sonnet in each perfect line
chanting softly, binding me to you,
promises of things you will do
and words are broken
like glass, fragile.
Angry words flow like a stream agile.
End comes gracefully sealed with a kiss,
its venomous meaning, forget this.
Like a spell, all is forgotten,
and I the pray float on fields of cotton.
But when I'm alone it seems to arise
and you seem to know when you look in my eyes.
Reminiscent, I've been here before,
I've walked upon this crystal floor,
and found it wasn't a floor at all,
alas, it was a waterfall
into a never ending abyss
of blood and shit and vomit and piss.
I vowed never to fall once more,
and still it seems I've opened the door
and pondered of weeds disguised as roses.
I looked at the path, forgot aftermath,
and lost myself within again, within you.
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.