A Mind Infinite

Infinity: The Views of a Dreamer

Tragic Love

Every time I place my hand over my love’s hair,

it turns into a sharp set of dead twigs carving into my weak palms

Weeping, the tears mix with my blood drizzling all down her rosy cheeks ,

telling her it’s going to be alright, it will be alright

Covering her eyes with my bloodied hands,

the iris turns to a bleak marble black cracking into dust

My heart bursts in my chest,

woe despairs me, can’t handle the sight

Her palms strike against my face,

turning it into sulfur

My body disintegrates in her arms,

our bodies combust into fire burning with the passion of young lovers hearts

Smoke rises with our love,

as the dusty carpet of the dusty motel room ignites

When the gas blows and our becomes ashes,

we’re floating off to a better place of the autumns crisp air



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This entry was posted on May 18, 2014 by in Poetry and tagged , , , , , .


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