You gazed at her eyes as you say, “I love you”. Eyes were speaking, saying that it’s true. You saw galaxies in her eyes, the sparks and all its value, Whilst she sees a home in your soul, embracing all your hues. She built dreams with you. Dreams like a flower, everyday it blooms. With you was so wonderful-- like living in a paradise, But she was awakened, by the cold shower of your lies. How could someone as beautiful as you, Hum all the lovely things like a voodoo? How could someone, an angel like you, Break that little girl’s deprived tiny heart in two? The dreams that she recurrently constructed, You wrecked and gradually saturated. You killed her slowly in her own bed, Lifeless and no tear left to shed. SHARE THIS ARTICLE: |
Esthete:
'es-theet' (n.) A person who affects great love of art, music, poetry, etc., and indifference to practical matters. El Esthete or The Aesthete in English, is where I share my Literary works, artworks, and everything else in between. Categories:
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2018 Komiket
February 24 and 25, 2018, 9AM-7PM, The Elements at Eton Centris |