Category : Poems

Sub Category : N/A

Her tears fall like rain on my head,
 But I told her from the beginning...
 When I get cold, nothing can warm me, 
Not even the hottest days of the summer.  

I let her get to me,
 But she got lost on the way,
 If she could read me like a poem, 
She would have found my whole life there.

  I hid my heart deep between my bones 
And my ribs crush it like a grape
 From which I make wine
 And let it flow the death through my lungs.