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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required It is disasters like these that give Good old love a bad name. Blame the one who cheated But believe me you, It took two to tango. From a painter's testimony, She had a spark of purity And a twinkle in her eye that hinted dark desires. Her voice was a midnight thought Uttered in a whisper to the soul. She made promises beyond imagination And her voice was without remorse. Each time she whispered my grinding horses Tied with a rope of self control to the tip of divine scriptures Kicked their hoofs and threatened to break free. She took me to the depth of the abyss And quenched the eternal fires of lustful demnation. Hand in hand we explored the thin boundaries Between curiosity and blasphemy. We crossed the blurred lines between faith and stupidity. She crucified me to the cross of my ignorance And spilled my folly in a fashionable way. When I woke up the next morning I was before the judgement sit of my beloved. Answering for crimes I never knew were possible to commit. My beloved, She promised to rip my heart out. My beloved wanted me to watch my heart die down As it lay helplessly outside my chest in a gruesome way. She promised to hang me as a witch afterwards. It is disasters like these that give Good old love a bad name. Blame the one who cheated But believe me you, It took two to tango. #StvnyPoetry
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