Thursday, April 5, 2012

A letter to Rome





You say love, I say lust.
You say flesh, I say soul.

This is hell.
Hell with just a pinch of heaven,
yet enough to make me love my suffering.
And every night I reminisce
how your presence gets me drunk
and your aura makes me sick;
sick with desire.

Love.
Such a plain word for such a
terribly wonderful,
wonderfully terrible,
feeling.

How many confessions does it take for you to fall in love with me?
How many years before my thoughts take shape and hunt you?

You have sucked my innocence and twisted my mind.

And every night I crumble into million pieces and they all land in your heart.
So twirl with me into the darkness.
Eradicate my existence;
for I only exist in your sighs.
Then drink my soul so I can forever be yours.
My last words shall be the whisper of your name.


From all my vices you were the most injurious.

Dedicated to no one.
Inspired by no one.

1 comment:

  1. the moment you will feel the desire-need to dedicate this to someone, it s the moment you start breathin.
    until then U, your words, your emotions will float numb in limbo

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