He Was Wrong for me

Kill the name upon my lips,

By pressing yours to mine.

I would rather die a thousand deaths,

Than suffer in the shrine

Of the life he was before he harmed,

My heart a thousand times.


Hold my palm in a vice grip,

Refusing to let go.

And please forget to stop the fire,

That trails beneath my bones

When you touch the piece of me,

No other soul will know.

◄ A poem using all of my favorite words:

I'll Drive ►


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