A place for evoking dark poetry and other comforts

Today marKs Eight

Forgive me if I stutter
Butterflies perhaps this time
or do you cause my heart to flutter
Where must we draw the line?
 
For I am the one who keeps
Mister death stashed in his pocket
and under the tyrannous stars I sleep
With you safe in my locket
 
Because like you I was once broken
Like you cradled by the furnace
heavy emotions rendered verboten
The result of such sternness
 
You and I both know; however
There’s something magical in falling
A hand that guides our endeavors
A heart that adheres to your calling
 
As I  am forever yours in time
When you cross the sacred line
 
 
Vore Space :// I Hope that EAst of eden theRe are beasTs WHitering tO death.
Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s