What is it inside of you that makes these letters true?
Is it made of colors or pieces of life’s broken hopes?
Maybe elemental, and invisible to all but closed eyes
This ink is composed of silken webs of truth and lies
Dripped from lovers��� lips, desperate attempts to seduce
Whispers that arouse naked flesh and raw internal scars
Shall I hide away my desire to run through unabashed?
Drown in the ink of your sorrow until my will dissolves?
Or trace the webs back to your heart and burn them all?
Hidden...
Published on February 01, 2015 07:00