I lose myself in the thoughts
of these sinful wants.
it is truly so sinful,
for I envy every beautiful thing
that catches your attention faster than
I ever could.
Dreaming is a danger.
The songs I sing are of what could have been,
my tongue speaks what I could be,
if it were not for the hideous vessel
I live in.
My heart is crying for
a moment,
just one moment,
of affection to brew from
your eyes.
I beg for a searing infatuation that
boils and overflows,
give me a taste of what I’ve been dreaming.
Demons can’t make a fool out of me,
I do that on my own
with these dying wishes.
My cries are deafened,
my aching heart unheard,
stuck in a forest of dreams
of what could be
if I truly held
such a
beauty.
By heldinhishands
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Labels: cool, dark, dark poetry, detached, emotional, lonely, love poetry, metaphor, mind, poetry, short poem, spilled ink, thoughtful, unique