Content of passion, we smother
wax and table lit fires, smoked
out in perspective, paper
stacked we burn in chapters,
in stanzas we deteriorate,
as of X and O, non the same
as traces of leaked ink, faded
dribble lips stained, I spit words
in sonnet, romantic flame,
candles capture in essence,
we com-bust in hind sight
like fires attraction, an
endless infatuation, eyes
burn deep, to deep to see,
warm enough to feel, hot
enough to grasp, writing
isn’t enough, so lets set fire
to the face, and burn these
shelves to the ground,
that’ll make a better story.
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jazzie-rose reblogged this from writerbloc
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writerbloc reblogged this from amanco and added:
Jazzy’s note: I enjoy the arrangement of the words!
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flawsstitchedwithgoodintentions said:
I disagree with your tag.
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amanco posted this