I used to seek pleasure in my memories
indulge into the love I thought I had
I used to view myself as gifted, talented
now the pen is filled with corroded ink
black as the dust of words it brings
each faded into worthless meaning by her heart
I know what love is only because I crave it so
she sends me a letter to remind me that I do not have it
the mark of the poet sending my bloody veins to the depths of me
to the depths where they find the fire to ignite me once more
the fire of despair that turns the ink to poison
the poison that I lay to paper
the paper that holds my heart in flames
Great words…so deep…so sweet and hard.
LikeLike
Sad, beautiful, and powerful all at the same time. One of my favourite ones until now, although you know I love all of your poems. Great job with this one!
LikeLike
Edgy and sharp yet deeply moving; great poetry.
LikeLike