Thursday, August 30, 2012

Love?

Is love real?
Does it truly exist?

Love to me has always been
Blood on your knuckles
Cuts on my wrists

But what is this now
This new thing
I don't know

Where did you come from?
Where did you go?

You don't bring me flowers
We don't kiss in the rain
Yet I love you

You refuse to hit me
You tell me I'm pretty
You love me

Who are you?
Why are you like this?

You tell me mean things
And are quick to say sorry
But you don't mean it

Reminds me of a poem
A girl who dies thinking
He loves me I'm not alone

No comments:

Post a Comment