Curios is our soul, I dare dictate.
Hearts and minds, trapped in a crimson state.

Steamed through madness
We serve emotions on a plate.

Some gourmet love with a sprinkle of hate.
Though perhaps I ought to elaborate.

If a heart is the engine
Then pain is the fuel.

Our sun only shines
By what we deem cruel.

Black, blue or white
Nothing is ever clear in the night.

We stand in the front, or we stand in the back
A difference, it makes not.
For we’re all slipping through the crack.

My heart, your mind or his hand.
Which is which or who is who
We do not understand.

Hate or love, love or hate.
All these substances we keep in a crate.

Clueless are our hearts.
Day in, day out we cut our precious parts.

We thought destiny is written in stars.
Blinded fools we were.
For fate is only drawn through scars.

(A) or (H), (D) or (Y).
Matters, it does not.
For all your letters make me cry.

Safe you are, when you say my name.
Me or him, it’s just the same.

Ran in the shadows you have,
Leaving my soul to blame.
Ran quickly in the dark,
To start another game.

Feel your laugh was my aim.
As your wild heart was mine to tame.
All the words you said, I wish I could rename.

Never the less, you left me on a mountain of shame.

So, once more I declare, curious is my soul.
As I’m only left with memories,
While you have my all.

Poem Rating:
Click To Rate This Poem!

Continue Rating Poems

Share This Poem