I'm happy.
I'm happy when I see you,
but only when I don't.
I need to know the motive,
see past curtain eyes.
as soon as the door
to the party closes,
I cry myself
my very own Seine.
I'm scared and I hate this,
I'm raw and exposed.
I need the pill
that makes your screaming stop,
the brings the barrel to my jaw,
that brings the rope around my throat,
the knife across my skin,
the pressure against my plummeting body.
but I don't want it.
I don't want you to leave.
stay with me
while I'm still me.
-
Author:
β¦ π₯ππΆπ©π’π¦π€π₯ β¦ (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: May 2nd, 2025 14:30
- Comment from author about the poem: so glad the week is finally over. greater things are yet to come. love you
- Category: Gothic
- Views: 9
- Users favorite of this poem: Tristan Robert Lange
Offline)
Comments3
Hear hear! Me too! TGIF! Greater things are indeed to come! Rock on hanleigh, loved this poem! πΉπ
Dark love that calls from the scars of passion. Good write
Blow the trumpets
Bang the gongs
Raise your voice
And party on
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