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Literature Text
These fingers never thought
They could write poetry,
Just like this mouth never
Thought it could eat hearts
And swallow regrets.
Your secrets still paint
The inside of my throat,
Hieroglyphics of a love
That left me raw.
I can still feel you in
My bones, and I'll keep
You there till the sun
Turns to dust and the
Moon stops singing her
Sorrow to the stars.
They could write poetry,
Just like this mouth never
Thought it could eat hearts
And swallow regrets.
Your secrets still paint
The inside of my throat,
Hieroglyphics of a love
That left me raw.
I can still feel you in
My bones, and I'll keep
You there till the sun
Turns to dust and the
Moon stops singing her
Sorrow to the stars.
Have some poetry. Seriously, what am I doing writing during the day?
© 2013 - 2024 earthy-rah
Comments6
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Don't really have anything to say but I think this is beautiful 