Category : Poems

Sub Category : N/A

I fill with dread at the idea of cold words spilling from your lips
That they're iced with details and apply pressure to my heart
Slow suffocation of my being as your tongue forms daggers 
They'd aim for my soul that I gift wrapped for you in the stars
I have been broken before, left for dead in a shallow grave of my displacement 
But the fact of the matter is that this would bury me too deep
I'd be lost without chance of recovering and no one would care