Poems
Comment 1

weak

My bones don’t like the love I’ve decided to fall for
they tell me to step back slowly but my hearts caught in colorful quick sand
with swirls that recount the ways I’m already done for,
that create images of the girl I’m currently dying for.
She says she just needs a shoulder to cry on
And I’m a masochist tied to the heaviest stones
And I’m a sadist but only god knows,
so I step with both feet onto unbalanced planks
falling into a river that reflects images of her lips
that I’d kill someone just to feel with my own bare fingertips.

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