I’m a fire,
Soothe me in,
Absorbing my ire,
I’m that whiskey too amber
One's that leaves behind bitter aftertastes....
viscid streaks of oil paint,
Poured on her neck,
Fabricless her body was the perfect canvas under veil,
Dripping slow merging with her moist skin
She soaked in just enough pigments for another artpiece of Michaelangelo,
A live sculpt of carrera white,
The marble held variants in colours I didn't know names of,
Covering her red underneath,
Her eyes, undeterred
I'm a compulsion on her part
For there are no options, she said.
The day she is given one,
I'd be left, stranded, alone,
All because I didn't know what satisfies her anymore,
Toxicity diffusing in my plain,
I would corrode,
And when I fall,
I'd be flowing iron,
These cogs in my brain are working a bit overtime it seems,
And it's now that it wants to make me into a poet...
Them symphonies stand still,
My broken Charade uphill has almost sucked the air Outta my chest.
The slight tinnitus intensifying as the ground beneath shrinks in hazy geometric patches.
Ephemeral are things you see,
at the cost of your breath actually been taken.
It hit a plateau, right now all I see is a bland pale white. Nothing piques my interest. Looks like there are deficient walls, deficient efforts from my side, from hers.
She asks me to not show like it only matters to me. How do I tell her, I ain't showing shit. If she sees it, it means the effort is there.
If mine shows why not yours?
And everytime I confront you about where this is going, what's happening to Us, I only get a recorded reply- I DON'T KNOW!
That's the problem babe-Do you?