A Thousand Masks

A thousand masks
stuck upon your dirtied face,
scared of every truth you drown in an ocean of lies, hoping you would never have to surface. But what a bummer it is, since even the biggest of fish
need to breathe.

Her love, her suicide

She eats guns
but fires roses.
She drinks poison
but offers you cherries.
It must be some kind of mystery
how she always inhales Hell
and exhales Heaven.
Maybe it’s her kind of love
and her type of suicide.

Raging Fires

If it’s Hell you’re giving me,
I don’t mind to ease your raging fires
and burn my lips kissing them back to sleep. I’ll wake over them, treat them as the only light that could ever guide us back to the gates where we departed.
I’ll find you in the smoke before it could ever burn you too.

Her Gold

You don’t understand, darling.
She’ll burn your soul
with her gold
before you even get to gaze her way.
She’ll pierce you like the heat
of a thousand summer nights.
And all you’ll ever end up to be
Is the remains of the stroke that was
cast upon you
Fom her afterimage.

Twisted Love

We’re everything and nothing
Burnt passion and poems.
Hating lovers
And lovers of hate.
We’re gold and dust
A forever wandering lust.
I grasp for you,
but I can’t life with you too.
We’re the perfect doubts
And undone trust.
A passing by cloud
Or a terrifying hurricane.
Both drive us insane.
We’re black and white,
Since grey doesn’t exist
In our never ending twist.

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