PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

"When you come back, could we be friends?" you asked.

Maybe after the scars from your outreach,

And the veins of my outrage recede,

And your hollow cheeks become flushed,

Full and blossoming with color.



After the bloodstains from your words,

Which stabbed like a saber,

Sliced like a knife,

And stung like a lashing;

Perhaps after they have faded.



I have forgiven,

But the scent of your savageness still lingers.

And as you can see now,

Through my window;

I am not ready to give in again.



Maybe when your eyes fail,

To kill me with their knowledge,

And when the beating of my heart slows,

And your's as well,

To the same speed.



And when our conversations,

Come to define normal,

Or atleast sane.

And I'm not dying because of your poisoned lips.