A knife s l i t 🔪 thru my throat

I never understood the taste of one's actions thru my vision of frosted glass. 
I plant them in my hazel eyes like a jasmine underneath the wet soil like caging a butterfly in my pale hands filled with unfulfilled dreams, an ivory rain of salt in their eyes led me to breathing their letters and words which came from their tarnished yet a roaring mouth when it hushed from the seasons of burned out alibis, rotting in their jaws.
They offer me brutal seconds of treachery that feeds the drought in the burnt autumn leaves, they erase my paragraphs and blaze my lungs with a dog bite. 
They dissapeared like stars in the morning, gone.
I painted their silhouettes thru weaved cobwebs, in a mirror, for I was never a dog that would leave its home.
I would recognize their broken accents and utters thru the weeps and howls in a corner, where it would wave at me, like the sapphire sea which I treasure, washed by the wind like how the touch of purgatory leaves my doorstep and replace it with decays and mourns like how a dragon breathes fire and like how a cloud breathes rain.
I am a thunder who'd catch the curtains that would get washed out by the wind.
I am a window who'd catch the stars even if they're high away 
in the sky.
For I love those who I don't like.
©sars.