Your love for me is like a knife left in my gut like death whispering again after it goes blunt, its palms swallows me and turning fragments of my existence into ashes like a flame
Was I stupid to give you power over tears?
or are you stupid for seeing me as made out of gold and not made out of wishes on shooting stars where it lands on the empty void where longing waves swallows it like an ark.
You cradle my fears and turn them to wounds that colors our colorless arguments with blood, it heals the rotten taste of torment you have in me in my soul.
You were a kid that plays dolls at first, then buried it in the doorstep where you'd live the rest of your life chasing others shadows and to whisper them your wishes in their dreams.
I was a house never been a home to people, instead, they would abandon me in their hearts.
©sars.
J