literature

Let me tell you what I think of your lips

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Published:
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Literature Text

Well,
let me tell you
what I think of your lips,
no, don't slip away again
through my fingertips,
I just wanted to say...

I know...
If water suddenly
couldn't become ice again,
if she knew
that a sequence
of her being
she can never
ever
go back to...
Believe me,
I know!

So let me tell you what I think of your lips,
I think the world of them, and,
I think of them a lot...

I am a figment
of one's imagination,
not really included
in the creation...

The truth is her,
she is the cure,
as the disease flourishes,
as she looks away...

Once upon no time,
there was nothing special,
here or anywhere,
and she was sadness,
she was linger,
she was hurt,
while falling down
the stairs of life!
Her limbs broken,
no more crawling,
just ache
and nothingness!
She gazed
at the broken ceiling
for so long,
that it became
part of her iris,
she could not close
her eyes anymore,
the skies were dry,
as land
and rye,
and as she'll lay
on the broken floor,
remembering
the song she never heard
and humming it
through tear soaked lips,
trembling
and crooked,
never to move again...

Fate hangs bitter
in a corner,
cleaning the barrels
of a gun,
while whispering the story
in fallen gunpowder
on the floor,
and stares
with sewn eyes
into the cracks
on her lips
and paints
letters
with her mind,
letters that disappear
as soon as the sound of the gun
fills the room again
with gloom...

...but still,
Let me spill my feel,
let me share the thrill,
as words
fill
the air with silence
and eyes close,
and,
as a ghost of futures past,
let me haunt,
taunt,
and kill that misery,
but,
as I'm doing it,
take a moment
to stare,
and, with hollow,
broken fingertips,
let me tell you what I think of your lips,
for I think the world of them...
...and you!
© 2016 - 2024 spider13bug
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