I told you, "You are my Poetry"
I ran away from Art but never to you
Nevertheless, you will never be those words
In my throat, as honey is what I've tasted
Before; you never forgotten my name
Nights and nights those last some days
I ain't crying for happiness
Nor pain, hatred, feelings
I would rather take a turn again
Yet you held my hands, wrapped my eyes with solitude and vengeance
"Let go of me Poetry,
You are my Art!"
©belsteorra
B