With kiss as sweet as strawberries, see my love blossom,
from ear to ear and eye to mind, percept my ignited affliction,
for I am your love and you are mine,
addiction was a mere thought that I could bury deep into the abyss of my traumatic states,
but with you I feel heroin running through these very veins,
the veins that once riled with independence, fear and unforeseen judgement,
stop! at the gates of my darkness, please...see no further,
it is rage and sin beyond belief and deceit that I cannot loose you over,
I yell and I scream at the possible thought that... yes..
I have fallen in love,
and with your cocaine infused kisses and sweet like strawberry soul,
my love is cigarette that cannot be put out,
because I love you darling.
About the Creator
Lilian Wicca
In a world of lovely things we often find ourselves surrounded by endings. If I am to end someday, I'd like to be buried with the words of my thoughts
I'm a 19 year old poet, I love to write about love/death.
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Clinging to Childhood
The playground is empty, as it should be past sundown. There is a warm breeze, and I can see everything despite the late hour. What time is it, anyway? It could very well be past midnight. I can never keep track of time, especially in the summer. A prickly piece of popcorn hides like a stowaway in the left cup of my padded training bra. I stuffed the tissue in last minute— a decision I’m beginning to regret, based on the events that are unfolding rapidly before me. To my left, laying non-chalantly on his back, is my date for the evening. He is two years older, could probably grow facial hair if he wanted to, and drives a secondhand Honda. He may as well be a Man. I, on the other hand, feel like a fraud with my too-short short-shorts, sparkly lip gloss, and makeshift push-up bra. I keep my arms pinned to my sides as I feel the dreaded circles of sweat beginning to manifest on my brand new Abercrombie top. I cup my elbows with my hands and stare down at my hint of cleavage, praying that the tissue doesn’t pop out like a white flag surrendouring my lack of womanhood.
By Marti Maley6 days ago in Fiction
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