Broken daisies and wilting mirrors
Broken daisies and wilting mirrors.
Hands trailing over skin that they can’t have,
not leaving red flames in its wake,
but rather, blossoming purples and royal blues,
a queen in their eyes; a monster in mine.
I do not want to;
I say so over and over,
but it is not a want, it is a need-
And it must go without a word.
Teeth ripping at flesh,
tearing into it with an insatiable hunger,
a stomach that will never be full;
a heart never satisfied.
A fire in their eyes;
a venom in their thoughts,
and scheming voices in the dark,
with the dusty cloak of nightfall.
Is it their head or mine?
Laying there, broken on the floor.
A crumpled heap upon the carpet-
deep purples and blues, a hint of red.
and a single thought-
Is this all there is to love?
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