The Virgo in me, both pure and destroyed.
He’s methodical, precise, yet something wild,
A sinner’s hands with a saint’s smile.
Now I breathe where poison used to stay,
Like lavender fields after rain’s decay.
So here I stand in his golden hour,
A fragile thing rebuilt
He’s my Virgo boy, a bittersweet truth,
In this unspeakable life, he feels like youth.
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Author:
Eliaskayne (
Offline) - Published: December 3rd, 2024 04:22
- Comment from author about the poem: One of many poems to my twin flame.
- Category: Love
- Views: 13
Offline)
Comments3
That's beautiful writing!
Welcome to MPS! Thanks for sharing something of yourself on your first poem here. Very resonant and relatable.
Interesting and enjoyable poem to read
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