I conceived thoughts of you under the moon,
Even a promise is poison ivy;
Settling is gentler than a prune,
Your eyes a garden, the thorns are lively.
*
Why love, must you bidden me to search him?
I burn with passion, till you fill my well.
My cheeks they blush, bright pink, until I dim;
The seed you planted to bid me farewell.
*
Now you’re back and my hearts now tender.
I hear you whistling into the wind,
Your cold air upon my legs, I am under,
This spell, and in a moment I am pinned;
*
Against the wall, you go against my will,
Risks, a happy pill I will take until.
A/N Thank you for reading. Please subscribe, it’s free. If you like this leave me a commment, if you LOVE this, please press the heart. I will return them back to you sevenfold 🙏🏽♥️🤗
About the Creator
Caitlin Charlton
Writer first. Close reader and self‑taught critic shaping eloquence.
A survivor reclaiming her territory.
I write dark fiction and poetry through symbol, shadow, and fracture.
Always sharpening the craft. ✏️🔥👠
Enjoyed the story? Support the Creator.
Subscribe for free to receive all their stories in your feed. You could also become a paid subscriber, letting them know you appreciate their work.
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.